One wife is too much for most husbands to bear, But two at a time there's no mortal can bear.

Who talks much, must talk in vain.

Twas when the seas were roaring With hollow blasts of wind, A damsel lay deploring, All on a rock reclined.

The luxury of doing good surpasses every other personal enjoyment.

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.

To shoot at crows is powder flung away.

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