Whence Is Thy Learning? Hath Thy Toil

But His Kiss Was So Sweet, And So Closely He Pressed, That I Languished And Pined Till I Granted The Rest.

I Never, With Important Air, In Conversation Overbear. . . . . My Tongue Within My Lips I Rein; For Who Talks Much Must Talk In Vain.

To Shoot At Crows Is Powder Flung Away.

One Wife Is Too Much For Most Husbands To Bear, But Two At A Time There's No Mortal Can Bear.

She Who Has Never Lov'd, Has Never Liv'd.