This Long Disease, My Life.

Say, Will The Falcon, Stooping From Above, Smit With Her Varying Plumage, Spare The Dove? Admires The Jay The Insect's Gilded Wings? Or Hears The Hawk When Philomela Sings?

A Long, Exact, And Serious Comedy; In Every Scene Some Moral Let It Teach, And, If It Can, At Once Both Please And Preach.

To The Elysian Shades Dismiss My Soul, Where No Carnation Fades.

Heav'n First Taught Letters For Some Wretch's Aid, Some Banish'd Lover, Or Some Captive Maid.

Taste, That Eternal Wanderer, Which Flies From Head To Ears, And Now From Ears To Eyes.