Who Often Reads, Will Sometimes Wish To

Anger Makes Us Strong, Blind And Impatient, And It Leads Us Wrong; The Strength Is Quickly Lost; We Feel The Error Long.

I Paint The Cot, As Truth Will Paint It, And As Bards Will Not.

But Jest Apart--what Virtue Canst Thou Trace In That Broad Trim That Hides Thy Sober Face? Does That Long-skirted Drab, That Over-nice And Formal Clothing, Prove A Scorn Of Vice? Then For Thine Accent--what In Sound Can Be So Void Of Grace As Dull Monotony?

A Sly Old Fish, Too Cunning For The Hook.

From Powerful Causes Spring The Empiric's Gains, Man's Love Of Life, His Weakness, And His Pains; These First Induce Him The Vile Trash To Try, Then Lend His Name, That Other Men May Buy.