She Who Has Never Lov'd, Has Never

Woman's Mind Oft' Shifts Her Passions, Like Th'inconstant Wind; Sudden She Rages, Like The Troubled Main, Now Sinks The Storm, And All Is Calm Again.

Youth's The Season Made For Joys, Love Is Then Our Duty.

Who Talks Much, Must Talk In Vain.

Of All Mechanics, Of All Servile Handycrafts-men, A Gamester Is The Vilest. But Yet, As Many Of The Quality Are Of The Profession, He Is Admitted Amongst The Politest Company.

I Hate The Man Who Builds His Name On Ruins Of Another's Fame. Thus Prudes, By Characters O'erthrown, Imagine That They Raise Their Own. Thus Scribblers, Covetous Of Praise, Think Slander Can Transplant The Bays.