Led On By Impulse, And Blind And

No Man Ever Became Very Wicked All At Once.

A Pauper Traveller Will Sing Before A Beggar.

Like Warmed-up Cabbage Served At Each Repast, The Repetition Kills The Wretch At Last.

Tears Ready To Do Duty At A Minute's Notice.

Let Me Moderate Our Sorrows. The Grief Of A Man Should Not Exceed Proper Bounds, But Be In Proportion To The Blow He Has Received. [lat., Ponamus Nimios Gemitus: Flagrantior Aequo Non Debet Dolor Esse Viri, Nec Vulnere Major.]