The Laughers Are A Majority.

Grave Authors Say, And Witty Poets Sing, That Honest Wedlock Is A Glorious Thing.

The Dull Flat Falsehood Serves For Policy, And In The Cunning, Truth's Itself A Lie.

A Good-natured Man Has The Whole World To Be Happy Out Of.

To Happy Convents, Bosomed Deep In Vines, Where Slumber Abbots, Purple As Their Wines.

Superstition Is The Spleen Of The Soul.