Every body about me seem'd happy—but every body seem'd in a hurry to…

Love has forc'd Heroes to forget their valour, and Philosophers their systems—no wonder he shou'd make a Woman forget her wrinkles.

Your great spirits are mere Jack-a-lanterns in the brain—they dance about, shine, and make vagaries—while those who possess happiness, soberly and quietly enjoy their treasure.

Secrets are pleasant to each child of Eve.

But what is Woman?—only one of Nature's agreeable blunders.

His ardent looks—his sighs—his consusion—his respectful attentions, have a thousand times profess'd the strongest passion—Surely, a man cannot in honour, be exculpated, who by such methods defrauds a Woman of her heart.

Five minutes! Zounds! I have been five minutes too late all my life-time!