O, She Is The Antidote To Desire.

Love's But The Frailty Of The Mind, When 'tis Not With Ambition Joined; A Sickly Flame, Which If Not Fed Expires; And Feeding, Wastes In Self-consuming Fires.

I Am A Fool, I Know It; And Yet, Heaven Help Me, I'm Poor Enough To Be A Wit.

I Know That’s A Secret, For It’s Whispered Everywhere.

I Hope You Do Not Think Me Prone To Any Iteration Of Nuptials.

All Well Bred Persons Lie - Besides, You Are A Woman; You Must Never Speak What You Think.