Seek to be good, but aim not to be great; A woman’s noblest station…

Alas! by some degree of woe We every bliss must gain: The heart can ne'er a transport know, That never feels a pain.

None without hope e'er lov'd the brightest fair: But Love can hope, where Reason would despair.

What is your sex's earliest, latest care, Your heart's supreme ambition?—To be fair.

The lover in the husband may be lost.

Where none admire, 'tis useless to excel; Where none are beaux, 'tis vain to be a belle.

How much the wife is dearer than the bride.