Beauty Is The Lover's Gift.

If This Be Not Love, It Is Madness, And Then It Is Pardonable.

I Always Take Blushing Either For A Sign Of Guilt, Or Of Ill Breeding.

Delay Not Till Tomorrow To Be Wise; Tomorrow's Sun To Thee May Neve Rise.

If Happiness In Self-content Is Placed, The Wise Are Wretched, And Fools Only Blessed.

Some By Experience Find Those Words Mis-placed: At Leisure Married, They Repent In Haste.