Tears ready to do duty at a minute's notice.

Of what avail are pedigrees?

The sweetest pleasures soonest cloy, And its best flavour temperance gives to joy.

Those who desire to become rich, desire it at once.

The brief span of our poor unhappy life to its final hour Is hastening on; and while we drink and call for gay wreaths, Perfumes, and young girls, old age creeps upon us, unperceived.

The arrows are from her dowry.

Remorse is the fruit of crime.