How Hard A Thing 'twould

She Once Used Me With That Insolence, That In Revenge I Took Her To Pieces; Sifted Her, And Separated Her Failings; I Studied 'em, And Got 'em By Rote. The Catalogue Was So Large, That I Was Not Without Hopes, One Day Or Other To Hate Her Heartily.

Musick Has Charms To Sooth A Savage Breast...

O, She Is The Antidote To Desire.

Say What You Will, 'tis Better To Be Left Than Never To Have Been Loved.

I Always Take Blushing Either For A Sign Of Guilt, Or Of Ill Breeding.