Writing, madam, is a mechanic part of wit. A gentleman should never go beyond a song or a billet.
We are not masters of our own affections; our inclinations dailyalter: now we love pleasure, and anon we shall dote on business. Human frailty will have it so, and who can help it?
Next to the coming to a good understanding with a new mistress, I love a quarrel with an old one.
When love grows diseased, the best thing we can do is to put it to a violent death. I cannot endure the torture of a lingering and consumptive passion.
I must confess I am a fop in my heart; ill customs influence my very senses, and I have been so used to affectation that without the help of the air of the court what is natural cannot touch me.
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