If it is abuse,—why one is always sure to hear of it from one damned goodnatured friend or another! - Richard Brinsley Sheridan

SIR OLIVER. Odds my Life — I am not sorry that He has run out of the course a little — for my Part, I hate to see dry Prudence clinging to the green juices of youth — ’tis like ivy round a sapling and spoils the growth of the Tree.

Rosy. Indeed! Good lack, good lack, to think of the instability of human affairs! Nothing certain in this world — most deceived when most confident — fools of fortune all.

Steal! to be sure they may; and, egad, serve your best thoughts as gypsies do stolen children,—disfigure them to make 'em pass for their own.