But wild Ambition loves to slide, not stand, And Fortune's ice prefers to Virtue's land.
Death ends our woes, and the kind grave shuts up the mournful scene.
Good Heaven, whose darling attribute we find is boundless grace, and mercy to mankind, abhors the cruel.
Be secret and discreet; the fairy favors are lost when not concealed.
Woman's honor is nice as ermine; it will not bear a soil.
Beauty, like ice, our footing does betray; Who can tread sure on the smooth, slippery way: Pleased with the surface, we glide swiftly on, And see the dangers that we cannot shun.