Chaos Of Thought And Passion, All Confus'd.

Nature Made Every Fop To Plague His Brother, Just As One Beauty Mortifies Another.

Ladies, Like Variegated Tulips, Show 'tis To Their Changes Half Their Charms We Owe.

Then From The Mint Walks Forth The Man Of Rhyme, Happy To Catch Me, Just At Dinner-time.

Our Proper Bliss Depends On What We Blame.

Age And Want Sit Smiling At The Gate.