Some Rise By Sin, And Some By

O, A Kiss Long As My Exile, Sweet As My Revenge! Now, By The Jealous Queen Of Heaven, That Kiss I Carried From Thee, Dear, And My True Lip Hath Virgined It E'er Since.

Tis Often Seen Adoption Strives With Nature; And Choice Breeds A Native Slip To Us From Foreign Lands.

In A False Quarrel There Is No True Valor.

Honor's Thought Reigns Solely In The Breast Of Every Man.

The Hand Of Little Employment Hath The Daintier Sense.