The Flower's Are Gone When The Fruits

Such Labour'd Nothings, In So Strange A Style, Amaze Th' Unlearn'd And Make The Learned Smile.

The Physician, By The Study And Inspection Of Urine And Ordure, Approves Himself In The Science; And In Like Sort Should Our Author Accustom And Exercise His Imagination Upon The Dregs Of Nature.

To Wake The Soul By Tender Strokes Of Art, To Raise The Genius, And To Mend The Heart

Our Proper Bliss Depends On What We Blame.

Heaven Gave To Woman The Peculiar Grace To Spin, To Weep, And Cully Human Race.