The Scum That Rises Upmost, When The

Imitators Are But A Servile Kind Of Cattle.

For Danger Levels Man And Brute And All Are Fellows In Their Need.

He With A Graceful Pride, While His Rider Every Hand Survey'd, Sprung Loose, And Flew Into An Escapade; Not Moving Forward, Yet With Every Bound Pressing, And Seeming Still To Quit His Ground.

A Lazy Frost, A Numbness Of The Mind.

Good Sense And Good-nature Are Never Separated, Though The Ignorant World Has Thought Otherwise. Good-nature, By Which I Mean Beneficence And Candor, Is The Product Of Right Reason.