Ever a glutton, at another's cost, But in whose kitchen dwells perpetual frost.

And plenty makes us poor.

For age but tastes of pleasures youth devours.

Confidence is the feeling we have before knowing all the facts

Death in itself is nothing; but we fear to be we know not what, we know not where.

Fortune, that with malicious joyDoes man her slave oppress,Proud of her office to destroy,Is seldom pleasd to bless.

All heiresses are beautiful.