The charge is prepared; the lawyers are met; The judges all ranged (a terrible show!) I go, undismay'd.—For death is a debt, A debt on demand.—So tak… - John Gay

The charge is prepar'd, the lawyers are met, The judges all ranged,—a terrible show!

I hate the man who builds his name
On ruins of another's fame. Thus prudes, by characters o'erthrown, Imagine that they raise their own.
Thus Scribblers, covetous of praise,
Think slander can transplant the bays.

Love, then, hath every bliss in store; 'Tis friendship, and 'tis something more. Each other every wish they give; Not to know love is not to live.

How the mother is to be pitied who hath handsome daughters! Locks, bolts, bars, and lectures of morality are nothing to them: they break through them all. They have as much pleasure in cheating a father and mother, as in cheating at cards.