Who weds her for dowry must pay his soul."
"Loose the knots of the heart; never think on thy fate:
No Euclid has yet disentangled that snarl."
"There resides in the grieving
A poison to kill;
Beware to go near them
'Tis pestilent still."
Harems and wine-shops only give him a new ground of observation, whence to draw sometimes a deeper moral than regulated sober life affords,—and this is foreseen:—
"I will be drunk and down with wine;
Treasures we find in a ruined house."