Ah! Devout Though I May Be, I

Then Worms Shall Try That Long Preserved Virginity, And Your Quaint Honor Turn To Dust, And Into Ashes All My Lust. The Grave's A Fine And Private Place But None, I Think, Do There Embrace.

Love Is Often The Fruit Of Marriage.

The Road Is A Long One From The Projection Of A Thing To Its Accomplishment.

Even Rome Cannot Grant Us A Dispensation From Death.

All The Satires Of The Stage Should Be Viewed Without Discomfort. They Are Public Mirrors, Where We Are Never To Admit That We Seeourselves; One Admits To A Fault When One Is Scandalized By Its Censure.