And When A Lady's In The Case,

Whence Is Thy Learning? Hath Thy Toil O'er Books Consumed The Midnight Oil?

Were I Laid On Greenland's Coast, And In My Arms Embrac'd My Lass; Warm Amidst Eternal Frost, Too Soon The Half Year's Night Would Pass.

One Common Fate We Both Must Prove; You Die With Envy, I With Love.

Nor Love, Not Honor, Wealth Nor Power, Can Give The Heart A Cheerful Hour When Health Is Lost. Be Timely Wise; With Health All Taste Of Pleasure Flies.

Sure Men Were Born To Lie, And Women To Believe Them!