As Some To Church Repair,

Let Fortune Do Her Worst, Whatever She Makes Us Lose, So Long As She Never Makes Us Lose Our Honesty And Our Independence.

Sole Judge Of Truth, In Endless Error Hurled: / The Glory, Jest, And Riddle Of The World!

Taste, That Eternal Wanderer, Which Flies From Head To Ears, And Now From Ears To Eyes.

Every Woman Is At Heart A Rake.

I Am His Highness' Dog At Kew; Pray Tell Me, Sir, Whose Dog Are You?