No Author Ever Spar'd A Brother.

Woman's Mind Oft' Shifts Her Passions, Like Th'inconstant Wind; Sudden She Rages, Like The Troubled Main, Now Sinks The Storm, And All Is Calm Again.

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.

How, Like A Moth, The Simple Maid Still Plays Around The Flame!

To Shoot At Crows Is Powder Flung Away.

And When A Lady's In The Case, You Know, All Other Things Give Place.