Self is a great Fop and a great Slattern: Soul has given her very good Cloaths, fine Ornaments, plain and neat, but Self either leaves them, like a Slut, in every Corner of the House; or when she puts them on, she does bedizen them with Lace and Embroidery, Fringes and Ruffles, Patches, and Powder, that you can hardly see enough of the Garment to distinguish the excellent Stuff which it is made of […]

Some illsome swain / Doth plant the prickly thorn amid Love's bloom, / To sorrow turned!

And ladies, if you have a man at home taking an unusual interest in how you shave your legs, you may have a Mamil in the making too.

Danny brushed away the eraser dust, but he could see no trace of what he had erased.