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

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

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.