What frenzy dictates, jealousy believes

To shoot at crows is powder flung away.

O Polly, you might have toyed and kissed, by keeping men off, you keep them on.

Gamesters and highwaymen are generally very good to their whores, but they are very devils to their wives.

Why is the hearse with scutcheons blazon'd round, And with the nodding plume of ostrich crown'd? No; the dead know it not, nor profit gain; It only serves to prove the living vain.

Around the steel no tortur'd worm shall twine, No blood of living insect stain my line; Let me, less cruel, cast the feather'd hook, With pliant rod athwart the pebbled brook, Silent along the mazy margin stray, And with the fur-wrought fly delude the prey.

In beauty faults conspicuous grow; The smallest speck is seen on snow.