How mirth can into folly glide,
And folly into sin!
732
SCOTT: _Bridal of Triermain,_ Canto i., St. 21.

When lovely woman stoops to folly,
And finds too late that men betray,
What charm can soothe her melancholy?
What art can wash her guilt away?
733
GOLDSMITH: _The Hermit,_ Ch. xxiv.


=Fools.=

Fools are my theme, let satire be my song.
734
BYRON: _English Bards and Scotch Reviewers,_ Line 6.

Since call'd
The Paradise of Fools, to few unknown.
735
MILTON: _Par. Lost,_ Bk. iii., Line 495.

And ever since the Conquest have been fools.
736
EARL OF ROCHESTER: _Artemisia in the Town to Chloe in the Country._

For fools rush in where angels fear to tread.
737