Wretches Hang That Jurymen May Dine.

Every Woman Is At Heart A Rake.

He Knows To Live Who Keeps The Middle State, And Neither Leans On This Side Nor On That.

Say First, Of God Above Or Man Below; What Can We Reason But From What We Know.

The Vulgar Boil, The Learned Roast, An Egg.

But Blind To Former As To Future Fate, What Mortal Knows His Pre-existent State?