No One Hath Seen Beauty In Its

Sensuality Not Only Debases Both Body And Mind, But Dulls The Keen Edge Of Pleasure.

Love May Be Likened To A Disease In This Respect, That When It Is Denied A Vent In One Part, It Will Certainly Break Out In Another; Hence What A Woman's Lips Often Conceal, Her Eyes, Her Blushes, And Many Little Involuntary Actions Betray.

A Lover, When He Is Admitted To Cards, Ought To Be Solemnly Silent, And Observe The Motions Of His Mistress. He Must Laugh When She Laughs, Sigh When She Sighs. In Short, He Should Be The Shadow Of Her Mind. A Lady, In The Presence Of Her Lover, Should Never Want A Looking-glass; As A Beau, In The Presence Of His Looking-glass, Never Wants A Mistress.

As The Malicious Disposition Of Mankind Is Too Well Known, And The Cruel Pleasure Which They Take In Destroying The Reputation Of Others, The Use We Are To Make Of This Knowledge Is, To Afford No Handle For Reproach; For Bad As The World Is, It Seldom Falls On Anyone Who Hath Not Given Some Slight Cause For Censure.

Life May As Properly Be Called An Art As Any Other.