All This [wealth] Excludes But

There Is Nothing Which Has Yet Been Contrived By Man, By Which So Much Happiness Is Produced As By A Good Tavern.

I Live In The Crowd Of Jollity, Not So Much To Enjoy Company As To Shun Myself.

The Power, Indeed, Of Every Individual Is Small, And The Consequence Of His Endeavours Imperceptible, In A General Prospect Of The World. Providence Has Given No Man Ability To Do Much, That Something Might Be Left For Every Man To Do. The Business Of Life Is Carried On By A General Co-operation; In Which The Part Of Any Single Man Can Be No More Distinguished, Than The Effect Of A Particular Drop When The Meadows Are Floated By A Summer Shower: Yet Every Drop Increases The Inundation, And Every Hand Adds To The Happiness Or Misery Of Mankind.

Such Is The Common Process Of Marriage. A Youth And Maiden Exchange Meeting By Chance, Or Brought Together By Artifice, Exchange Glances, Reciprocate Civilities, Go Home, And Dream Of One Another. Having Little To Divert Attention, Or Diversify Thought, They Find Themselves Uneasy When They Are Apart, And Therefore Conclude That They Shall Be Happy Together. They Marry, And Discover What Nothing But Voluntary Blindness Had Before Concealed; They Wear Out Life In Altercations, And Charge Nature With Cruelty.

Players, Sir! I Look On Them As No Better Than Creatures Set Upon Tables And Joint Stools To Make Faces And Produce Laughter, Like Dancing Dogs.