But Love's A Malady Without A Cure.

To Breed Up The Son To Common Sense Is Evermore The Parent's Least Expense.

Reason Is A Crutch For Age, But Youth Is Strong Enough To Walk Alone.

There Is A Pleasure In Being Mad, Which None But Madmen Know.

None But The Brave Deserve The Fair.

The Poorest Of The Sex Have Still An Itch To Know Their Fortunes, Equal To The Rich. The Dairy-maid Inquires, If She Shall Take The Trusty Tailor, And The Cook Forsake.