And Took For Truth The Test Of

The Gentle Fair On Nervous Tea Relies, Whilst Gay Good-nature Sparkles In Her Eyes; An Inoffensive Scandal Fluttering Round, Too Rough To Tickle, And Too Light To Wound.

Say, Ye Oppress'd By Some Fantastic Woes, Some Jarring Nerve That Baffles Your Repose; Who Press The Downy Couch, While Slaves Advance With Timid Eye, To Read The Distant Glance; Who With Sad Prayers The Weary Doctor Tease, To Name The Nameless Ever-new Disease; Who With Mock Patience Dire Complaints Endure, Which Real Pain And That Alone Can Cure; How Would Ye Bear In Real Pain To Lie, Despised, Neglected, Left Alone To Die? How Would Ye Bear To Draw Your Latest Breath, Where All That's Wretched Paves The Way For Death?

Temp'rate In Every Place--abroad, At Home, Thence Will Applause, And Hence Will Profit Come; And Health From Either--he In Time Prepares For Sickness, Age, And Their Attendant Cares.

The Wife Was Pretty, Trifling, Childish, Weak; She Could Not Think, But Would Not Cease To Speak.

Books Cannot Always Please, However Good; Minds Are Not Ever Craving For Their Food.