She That Asks Her Dear Five Hundred

No, Freedom Has A Thousand Charms To Show That Slaves, Howe'er Contented, Never Know.

True Modesty Is A Discerning Grace And Only Blushes In The Proper Place; But Counterfeit Is Blind, And Skulks Through Fear, Where 'tis A Shame To Be Asham'd T' Appear: Humility The Parent Of The First, The Last By Vanity Produc'd And Nurs'd.

Fate Steals Along With Silent Tread, Found Oftenest In What Least We Dread; Frowns In The Storm With Angry Brow, But In The Sunshine Strikes The Blow.

But Many A Crime Deemed Innocent On Earth Is Registered In Heaven; And These No Doubt Have Each Their Record, With A Curse Annex'd.

Riches Have Wings, And Grandeur Is A Dream.