Not Always Actions Show The Man; We

Fickle Fortune Reigns, And, Undiscerning, Scatters Crowns And Chains.

What Woeful Stuff This Madrigal Would Be, In Some Starved Hackney Sonneteer, Or Me! But Let A Lord Once Own The Happy Lines, How The Wit Brightens! How The Style Refines!

Every Professional Was Once An Amateur.

Pleas'd Look Forward, Pleas'd To Look Behind,and Count Each Birthday With A Grateful Mind.

Most Women Have No Characters At All.