How can man die better, Than facing fearful odds For the ashes of this fathers And the temples of his gods?

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

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

Sweet is revenge--especially to women.

And whispering, "I will ne'er consent," consented.

Oh! too convincing--dangerously dear-- In woman's eye the unanswerable tear! That weapon of her weakness she can wield, To save, subdue--at once her spear and shield.