Of All The Fools That Pride Can

My Lodging Is On The Cold Ground, And Hard, Very Hard, Is My Fare, But That Which Grieves Me More Is The Coldness Of My Dear.

Cowards Are Cruel, But The Brave Love Mercy And Delight To Save.

Can Love Be Controll'd By Advice?

One Common Fate We Both Must Prove; You Die With Envy, I With Love.

To Frame The Little Animal, Provide All The Gay Hues That Wait On Female Pride: Let Nature Guide Thee; Sometimes Golden Wire The Shining Bellies Of The Fly Require; The Peacock's Plumes Thy Tackle Must Not Fail, Nor The Dear Purchase Of The Sable's Tail.