One Thought Of Thee Puts All The

Wholesome Solitude, The Nurse Of Sense!

Party-spirit At Best Is But The Madness Of Many For The Gain Of A Few.

A Gen'rous Heart Repairs A Sland'rous Tongue.

Praise Is Like Ambergrease: A Little Whiff Of It, And By Snatches, Is Very Agreeable; But When A Man Holds A Whole Lump Of It To Your Nose, It Is A Stink, And Strikes You Down.

In Various Talk Th' Instructive Hours They Past, Who Gave The Ball, Or Paid The Visit Last; One Speaks The Glory Of The British Queen, And One Describes A Charming Indian Screen; A Third Interprets Motions, Looks, And Eyes; At Every Word A Reputation Dies.