Were I Laid On Greenland's Coast, And

Good Housewives All The Winter's Rage Despise, Defended By The Riding-hood's Disguise; Or, Underneath The Umbrella's Oily Shade, Safe Through The Wet On Clinking Pattens Tread, Let Persian Dames The Unbrella's Ribs Display, To Guard Their Beauties From The Sunny Ray; Or Sweating Slaves Support The Shady Load, When Eastern Monarchs Show Their State Abroad; Britain In Winter Only Knows Its Aid, To Guard From Chilling Showers The Walking Maid.

Fools May Our Scorn, Not Envy, Raise. For Envy Is A Kind Of Praise.

Fair Is The Kingcup That In Meadow Blows, Fair Is The Daisy That Beside Her Grows.

Who Talks Much, Must Talk In Vain.

Whoever Heard A Man Of Fortune In England Talk Of The Necessaries Of Life? . . . Whether We Can Afford It Or No, We Must Have Superfluities.