She who ne'er answers till a husband cools, Or, if she rules him, never shows she rules; Charms by accepting, by submitting, sways, Yet has her humor most, when she obeys.

The lot of man - to suffer and to die.

No louder shrieks to pitying heaven are cast, When husbands or lap-dogs breathe their last.

Words are like Leaves; and where they most abound, Much Fruit of Sense beneath is rarely found.

Still when the lust of tyrant power succeeds, some Athens perishes, or some Tully bleeds.

To pardon those absurdities in ourselves which we cannot suffer in others is neither better nor worse than to be more willing to be fools ourselves than to have others so.

Bear, like the Turk, no brother near the throne.