She who has never lov'd, has never liv'd.

To shoot at crows is powder flung away.

Whoever heard a man of fortune in England talk of the necessaries of life? . . . Whether we can afford it or no, we must have superfluities.

Cowards are cruel, but the brave love mercy and delight to save.

Lest men suspect your tale untrue, Keep probability in view.

Is there no hope? the sick man said, The silent doctor shook his head, And took his leave with signs of sorrow, Despairing of his fee to-morrow.

Sure men were born to lie, and women to believe them!