Samuel Butler

To swallow gudgeons ere they 're catch'd, And count their chickens ere they 're hatch'd.

And bid the devil take the hin'most.

A Babylonish dialect Which learned pedants much affect.

Every man's work, whether it be literature or music or pictures or architecture or anything else, is always a portrait of himself.

Youth is like spring, an over-praised season more remarkable for biting winds than genial breezes. Autumn is the mellower season, and what we lose in flowers we more than gain in fruits.

But Hudibras gave him a twitch As quick as lightning in the breech, Just in the place where honour 's lodg'd, As wise philosophers have judg'd; Because a kick in that part more Hurts honour than deep wounds before.

He that complies against his will Is of his own opinion still.

Still amorous and fond and billing, Like Philip and Mary on a shilling.

Some have been beaten till they know What wood a cudgel 's of by th' blow; Some kick'd until they can feel whether A shoe be Spanish or neat's leather.

Doubtless the pleasure is as great Of being cheated as to cheat.