The More Haste, Ever The Worst Speed.

When Satire Flies Abroad On Falsehood's Wing, Short Is Her Life, And Impotent Her Sting; But When To Truth Allied, The Wound She Gives Sinks Deep, And To Remotest Ages Lives.

To Copy Beauty Forfeits All Pretense To Fame; To Copy Faults Is Want Of Sense

To Copy Faults Is Want Of Sense.

England A Fortune-telling Host, As Num'rous As The Stars, Could Boast; Matrons, Who Toss The Cup, And See The Grounds Of Fate In Grounds Of Tea.

Constant Attention Wears The Active Mind, Blots Out Our Pow'rs, And Leaves A Blank Behind.