He Who Would Search For Pearls Must

If We From Wealth To Poverty Descend, Want Gives To Know The Flatterer From The Friend.

For All Have Not The Gift Of Martyrdom.

The Poorest Of The Sex Have Still An Itch To Know Their Fortunes, Equal To The Rich. The Dairy-maid Inquires, If She Shall Take The Trusty Tailor, And The Cook Forsake.

When Beauty Fires The Blood, How Love Exalts The Mind!

All The Learn'd Are Cowards By Profession.