“ Before I got married I had six theories about raising children; now, I have six children and no theories. ”
For Hell and the foul fiend that rulesGod's everlasting fiery jails(Devised by rogues, dreaded by fools),With his grim, grisly dog that keeps the door,Are senseless stories, idle tales,Dreams, whimseys, and no more.
~ John Wilmot
God bless our good and gracious King,Whose promise none relies on;Who never said a foolish thing,Nor ever did a wise one.
Now piercèd is her virgin zone;She feels the foe within it.She hears a broken amorous groan,The panting lover's fainting moan,Just in the happy minute.
Then, if to make your ruin more,You'll peevishly be coy,Die with the scandal of a whoreAnd never know the joy.