A Little Scorn Is Alluring.

Love's But A Frailty Of The Mind, When 'tis Not With Ambition Joined.

A Hungry Wolf At All The Herd Will Run, In Hopes, Through Many, To Make Sure Of One.

I Find We Are Growing Serious, And Then We Are In Great Danger Of Being Dull.

Thus Grief Still Treads Upon The Heels Of Pleasure; Married In Haste, We May Repent At Leisure.

But Say What You Will, 'tis Better To Be Left Than Never To Have Been Loved. To Pass Our Youth In Dull Indifference, To Refuse The Sweets Of Life Because They Once Must Leave Us, Is As Preposterous As To Wish To Have Been Born Old, Because We One Day Must Be Old.