All Habits Gather By Unseen Degrees.

Here Lies My Wife: Here Let Her Lie! Now She's At Rest, And So Am I.

Death Ends Our Woes, And The Kind Grave Shuts Up The Mournful Scene.

The End Of Satire Is The Amendment Of Vices By Correction; And He Who Writes Honestly Is No More An Enemy To The Offender Than The Physician To The Patient When He Prescribes Harsh Remedies.

You See Through Love, And That Deludes Your Sight, As What Is Straight Seems Crooked Through The Water.

In Pious Times, Ere Priest-craft Did Begin, Before Polygamy Was Made A Sin; When Man, On Many, Multipli'd His Kind, Ere One To One Was Cursedly Confin'd: When Nature Prompted, And No Law Deni'd Promiscuous Use Of Concubine And Bride; Then, Israel's Monarch, After Heaven's Own Heart, His Vigorous Warmth Did Variously Impart To Wives And Slaves: And, Wide As His Command, Scatter'd His Maker's Image Through The Land.