A kind and gentle heart he had, To comfort friends and foes; The naked every day he clad When he put on his… — Oliver Goldsmith

By the living jingo, she was all of a muck of sweat.

When lovely woman stoops to folly,

And finds too late that men betray,

What charm can soothe her melancholy,

What art can wash her guilt away?

We sometimes had those little rubs which Providence sends to enhance the value of its favors.