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Page 33 - O, the vanity of these men ! Fainall, d'ye hear him? If they did not commend us, we were not handsome ! Now you must know they could not commend one if one was not handsome. Beauty the lover's gift ! Lord, what is a lover, that it can give ? Why, one makes lovers as fast as one pleases, and they live as long as one pleases, and they die as soon as one pleases ; and then, if one pleases, one makes more.
Page 42 - Rowland will not fail to come ? or will he not fail when he does come ? Will he be importunate, Foible, and push ? For if he should not be importunate, I shall never break decorums : — I shall die with confusion, if I am forced to advance. — Oh no, I can never advance ! — I shall swoon if he should expect advances. No, I hope sir Rowland is better bred than to put a lady to the necessity of breaking her forms.
Page 63 - Sunday in a new chariot, to provoke eyes and whispers, and then never to be seen there together again; as if we were proud of one another the first week, and ashamed of one another ever after. Let us never visit together, nor go to a play together; but let us be very strange and well bred: let us be as strange as if we had been married a great while; and as well bred as if we were not married at all.
Page 64 - Lastly, to the dominion of the tea-table I submit — but with proviso, that you exceed not in your province; but restrain yourself to native and simple teatable drinks, as tea, chocolate, and coffee: as likewise to genuine and authorized tea-table talk — such as mending of fashions, spoiling reputations, railing at absent friends, and so forth...
Page 22 - Men are ever in extremes; either doting or averse. While they are lovers, if they have fire and sense, their jealousies are insupportable; and when they cease to love (we ought to think at least) they...
Page 35 - To think of a whirlwind, though 'twere in a whirlwind, were a case of more steady contemplation; a very tranquillity of mind and mansion. A fellow that lives in a windmill, has not a more whimsical dwelling than the heart of a man that is lodged in a woman.
Page 55 - I am certain; so there's an end of jealousy: — weary of her I am, and shall be — no, there's no end of that — no, no, that were too much to hope. Thus far concerning my repose; now for my reputation. As to my own, I...
Page 33 - One no more owes one's beauty to a lover, than one's wit to an echo. They can but reflect what we look and say; vain empty things if we are silent or unseen, and want a being.
Page 32 - O ay, letters— I had letters — I am persecuted with letters — I hate letters — nobody knows how to write letters, and yet one has em, one does not know why. They serve one to pin up one's hair.