Shakespeare Is One Of The

Brandy And Water Spoils Two Good Things.

I Allow No Hot-beds In The Gardens Of Parnassus.

I Give Thee All,-i Can No More, Though Poor The Off'ring Be; My Heart And Lute Are All The Store That I Can Bring To Thee.

The Man Must Have A Rare Recipe For Melancholy, Who Can Be Dull In Fleet Street.

Is It A Stale Remark To Say That I Have Constantly Found The Interest Excited At A Playhouse To Bear An Exact Inverse Proportion To The Price Paid For Admission?