Never Was It Given To Mortal Man

As The Twig Is Bent, So Grows The Tree.

Our Grandsire, Adam, Ere Of Eve Possesst, Alone, And E'en In Paradise Unblest, With Mournful Looks The Blissful Scenes Survey'd, And Wander'd In The Solitary Shade. The Maker Say, Took Pity, And Bestow'd Woman, The Last, The Best Reserv'd Of God.

Pleas'd Look Forward, Pleas'd To Look Behind,and Count Each Birthday With A Grateful Mind.

Women, As They Are Like Riddles In Being Unintelligible, So Generally Resemble Them In This, That They Please Us No Longer Once We Know Them.

All Looks Yellow To A Jaundiced Eye.