Woman's Honor Is Nice As Ermine; It

Death Ends Our Woes, And The Kind Grave Shuts Up The Mournful Scene.

Beauty Is Nothing Else But A Just Accord And Mutual Harmony Of The Members, Animated By A Healthful Constitution.

And Love's The Noblest Frailty Of The Mind.

Present Joys Are More To Flesh And Blood Than A Dull Prospect Of A Distant Good.

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.