Who Talks Much, Must Talk In Vain.

In Beauty Faults Conspicuous Grow; The Smallest Speck Is Seen On Snow.

Twas When The Seas Were Roaring With Hollow Blasts Of Wind, A Damsel Lay Deploring, All On A Rock Reclined.

What Frenzy Dictates, Jealousy Believes

Do You Think Your Mother And I Should Have Lived Comfortably So Long Together, If Ever We Had Been Married? Baggage!

From Kings To Cobblers 'tis The Same; Bad Servants Wound Their Masters' Fame.