To Friendship Every Burden's Light.

Who Hath Not Heard The Rich Complain Of Surfeits, And Corporeal Pain? He Barr'd From Every Use Of Wealth, Envies The Ploughman's Strength And Health.

Man May Escape From Rope And Gun; Nay, Some Have Outlived The Doctor's Pill: Who Takes A Woman Must Be Undone, That Basilisk Is Sure To Kill. The Fly That Sips Treacle Is Lost In The Sweets, So He That Tastes Woman, Woman, Woman, He That Tastes Woman, Ruin Meets.

What Then In Love Can Woman Do? If We Grow Fond They Shun Us. And When We Fly Them, They Pursue: But Leave Us When They've Won Us.

Give Me, Kind Heaven, A Private Station, A Mind Serene For Contemplation.

Who Friendship With A Knave Hath Made, Is Judged A Partner In The Trade.