The Blushing Beauties Of A Modest Maid.

The True Amphitryon Is The Amphitryon Where We Dine.

I Have A Soul That Like An Ample Shield Can Take In All, And Verge Enough For More.

None, None Descends Into Himself, To Find The Secret Imperfections Of His Mind: But Every One Is Eagle-ey'd To See Another's Faults, And His Deformity.

The Thought Of Being Nothing After Death Is A Burden Insupportable To A Virtuous Man.

Whistling To Keep Myself From Being Afraid.