I Came Up Stairs Into

Say What You Will, 'tis Better To Be Left Than Never To Have Been Loved.

To Converse With Scandal Is To Play At Losing Loadum, You Must Lose A Good Name To Him, Before You Can Win It For Yourself.

A Hungry Wolf At All The Herd Will Run, In Hopes, Through Many, To Make Sure Of One.

A Wit Should No More Be Sincere, Than A Woman Constant; One Argues A Decay Of Parts, As To Other Of Beauty.

Love's But The Frailty Of The Mind, When 'tis Not With Ambition Joined; A Sickly Flame, Which If Not Fed Expires; And Feeding, Wastes In Self-consuming Fires.