Spite Of All Modesty, A

Grant Me Some Wild Expressions, Heavens, Or I Shall Burst.

Sir, You Shall Taste My Anno Domini.

Tis A Question Whether Adversity Or Prosperity Makes The Most Poets.

Women Never Really Command Until They Have Given Their Promise To Obey; And They Are Never In More Danger Of Being Made Slaves Than When The Men Are At Their Feet.

Observe This, That Tho A Woman Swear, Forswear, Lie, Dissemble, Back-bite, Be Proud, Vain, Malicious, Anything, If She Secures The Main Chance, She's Still Virtuous; That's A Maxim.