My Lodging Is On The Cold Ground,

I Never, With Important Air, In Conversation Overbear. . . . . My Tongue Within My Lips I Rein; For Who Talks Much Must Talk In Vain.

To Frame The Little Animal, Provide All The Gay Hues That Wait On Female Pride: Let Nature Guide Thee; Sometimes Golden Wire The Shining Bellies Of The Fly Require; The Peacock's Plumes Thy Tackle Must Not Fail, Nor The Dear Purchase Of The Sable's Tail.

She Who Has Never Lov'd, Has Never Liv'd.

Fair Words Cost Nothing.

Exercise Thy Lasting Youth Defends.