The happy married man dies in good stile at home, surrounded by his weeping wife and children. The old bachelor don't die at all - he sort of rots away, like a pollywog's tail.

My wife is one of the best wimin on this Continent, altho' she isn't always gentle as a lamb with mint sauce.

They drink with impunity, or anybody who invites them.

I have given two cousins to war and I stand ready to sacrifice my wife's brother.

In church your grandsire cut his throat; to do the job too long he tarried: he should have had my hearty vote to cut his throat before he married.

Always remember the last words of my grandfather, who said: 'A truck!'

A cypress-bough, and a rose-wreath sweet, A wedding-robe, and a winding-sheet, A bridal bed and a bier. Thine be the kisses, maid, And smiling Love's alarms; A…