In A Polite Age Almost Every Person

What We Say Of A Thing That Has Just Come In Fashion And That Which We Do With The Dead, Is The Name Of The Honestest Man In The Nation: What More Of A Man Can Be Said?

They Please, Are Pleas'd, They Give To Get Esteem Till, Seeming Blest, They Grow To What They Seem.

Our Pleasures Are Short, And Can Only Charm At Intervals; Love Is A Method Of Protraction Our Greatest Pleasure.

And The Weak Soul, Within Itself Unbless'd, Leans For All Pleasure On Another's Breast.

On The Stage He Was Natural, Simple, Affecting, 'twas Only When He Was Off, He Was Acting.