Whence thy learning? Hath thy toil O'er books consumed the midnight oil? - John Gay

Were I laid on Greenland’s Coast, And in my Arms embrac’d my Lass; Warm amidst eternal Frost, Too soon the Half Year’s Night would pass.

If the heart of a man is depressed with cares, The mist is dispell'd when a woman appears; Like the notes of a fiddle, she sweetly, sweetly Raises the spirits, and charms our ears.

You know, my Dear, I never meddle in matters of Death; I always leave those Affairs to you. Women indeed are bitter bad Judges in these cases, for they are so partial to the Brave that they think every Man handsome who is going to the Camp or the Gallows.