Where none admire, 't is useless to excel; Where none are beaux, 't is vain to be a belle.

None without hope e'er lov'd the brightest fair, But love can hope where reason would despair.

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

How much the wife is dearer than the bride.