In the Humour of the Age.

'Marriage, that was only contriv'd for the meaner Rank; tell me of
Marriage, commend me to a Whore.

'Every serious Thought, was so much Time lost.

'We address you with the same awful Reverence we petition Heaven.


_In Sir 'Courtly Nice'._

'Nay, his Salvation is a Looking-Glass, for there he finds his eternal
Happiness, Surly's Heaven, at least his Priest is his Claret-Glass, for
to that he confesses all his Sins, and from it receives Absolution and
Comfort. But his Damnation is a Looking-Glass, for there he finds an
eternal Fire in his Nose.

'That same thing, the Word _Love_, is a Fig-Leaf to cover the naked
Sense, a Fashion brought up by _Eve_, the Mother of Jilts, she Cuckold
her Husband with the Serpent, then pretended to Modesty, and fell a
making of Plackets.

'Let him be in Misery and be damn'd.

'And a Pox on thee for't.

'Prithee Dress and be damn'd.