A vast, vamped future, old, revived new piece.
Loud thunder to its bottom shook the bog, And the hoarse nation croaked, God save King Log'
She, while her lover pants upon her breast, Can mark the figures on an Indian chest.
And is there no relief for Love?
Some by Old Words to Fame have made Pretence;
Ancients in Phrase, meer Moderns in their Sense!
One would not, sure, be frightful when one's dead -And, Betty, give this cheek a little red.
An atheist is but a mad, ridiculous derider of piety, but a hypocrite makes a sober jest of God and religion he finds it easier to be upon his knees than to rise to a good action.
In search of Wit these lose their common Sense,
And then turn Criticks in their own Defence.
In Men, we various Ruling Passions find;
In Women, two almost divide the kind;
Those, only fix'd, they first or last obey,
The Love of Pleasure, and the Love of Sway.
Get place and wealth, if possible with grace; if not, by any means get wealth and place.
And die of nothing but a rage to live.
What has not fir'd her bosom or her brain?
Shut, shut the door, good John fatigued I said. Tie up the knocker, say I'm sick, I'm dead. The dog-star rages.
In words, as fashions, the same rule will hold; Alike fantastic, if too new, or old: Be not the first by whom the new are tried, Nor yet the last to lay the old aside.
For modes of faith let graceless zealots fight, His can't be wrong whose life is in the right.
Or her, whose life the Church and Scandal share,
For ever in a Passion, or a Pray'r.
While man exclaims, 'See all things for my use' 'See man for mine' replies a pamper'd goose.
Curse on all laws, but those that love has made.
Men dream in courtship, but in wedlock wake.
Persons of genius, and those who are most capable of art, are always most fond of nature as such are chiefly sensible, that all art consists in the imitation and study of nature.
Like Cato, give his little senate laws, and sit attentive to his own applause.
Where'er you walk, cool gales shall fan the glade, Trees, where you sit, shall crowd into a shade Whereer you tread, the blushing flow'rs shall rise, And all things flourish where you turn your eyes.
Envy, to which the ignoble mind's a slave, Is emulation in the learned or brave.
Let spades be trumps she said, and trumps they were.
No one should be ashamed to admit they are wrong, which is but saying, in other words, that they are wiser today than they were yesterday.
Satan is wiser now than before, and tempts by making rich instead of poor.
Damn with faint praise, assent with civil leer, And without sneering, teach the rest to sneer Willing to wound, and yet afraid to strike, Just hint a fault, and hesitate dislike.
She sighs for ever on her pensive bed, Pain at her side, and Megrim at her head.
A God without dominion, providence, and final causes, is nothing else but fate and nature.
But where's the man who counsel can bestow, Still pleased to teach, and yet not proud to know.
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