What Is Easy Is Seldom Excellent.

It Is Observed Of Gold, By An Old Epigrammatist, That To Have It Is To Be In Fear, And To Want It Is To Be In Sorrow.

London! The Needy Villain's General Home, The Common Sewer Of Paris And Of Rome! With Eager Thirst, By Folly Or By Fate, Sucks In The Dregs Of Each Corrupted State.

Men Know That Women Are An Overmatch For Them, And Therefore They Choose The Weakest Or The Most Ignorant. If They Did Not Think So, They Never Could Be Afraid Of Women Knowing As Much As Themselves.

When A Poet Mentions The Spring, We Know That The Zephyrs Are About To Whisper, That The Groves Are To Recover Their Verdure, The Linnets To Warble Forth Their Notes Of Love, And The Flocks And Herds To Frisk Over Vales Painted With Flowers: Yet, Who Is There So Insensible Of The Beauties Of Nature, So Little Delighted With The Renovation Of The World, As Not To Feel His Heart Bound At The Mention Of The Spring?

The Happiness Of London Is Not To Be Conceived But By Those Who Have Been In It.