He, who the rules of temperance neglects

He ought not to pretend to friendship's name, Who reckons not himself and friend the same.

Happiness is a stranger to mankind, And, like to a forc'd motion, it is ever Strongest at the beginning; then languishing With time, grows weary of our company.

A fop? In this brave, licentious age To bring his musty morals on the stage? Rhime us to reason? and our lives redress In metre, as Druids did the savages.

Friendship's an empty name, made to deceive Those whose good nature tempts them to believe: There's no such thing on earth; the best that we Can hope for here is faint neutrality.

He is a fool who thinks by force or skill To turn the current of a woman's will.

For 'tis not where we lie, but whence we fell; The loss of heaven's the greatest pain in hell.