In Beauty Faults Conspicuous Grow; The Smallest

Man May Escape From Rope And Gun; Nay, Some Have Outlived The Doctor's Pill: Who Takes A Woman Must Be Undone, That Basilisk Is Sure To Kill. The Fly That Sips Treacle Is Lost In The Sweets, So He That Tastes Woman, Woman, Woman, He That Tastes Woman, Ruin Meets.

Breathe Soft, Ye Winds! Ye Waves, In Silence Sleep!

Give Me, Kind Heaven, A Private Station, A Mind Serene For Contemplation.

The Charge Is Prepared; The Lawyers Are Met; The Judges All Ranged (a Terrible Show!) I Go, Undismay'd. For Death Is A Debt, A Debt On Demand. So Take What I Owe.

A Rich Rogue Nowadays Is Fit Company For Any Gentleman; And The World, My Dear, Hath Not Such A Contempt For Roguery As You Imagine.