But Just Disease To Luxury Succeeds, And

The Blest To-day Is As Completely So, As Who Began A Thousand Years Ago.

How Glowing Guilt Exalts The Keen Delight!

No Louder Shrieks To Pitying Heaven Are Cast, When Husbands Or Lap-dogs Breathe Their Last.

True Wit Is Nature To Advantage Dress'd What Oft Was Thought, But Ne'er So Well Express'd; Something Whose Truth Convinced At Sight We Find, That Gives Us Back The Image Of Our Mind. As Shades More Sweetly Recommend The Light, So Modest Plainness Sets Off Sprightly Wit.

All Nature Is But Art, Unknown To Thee All Chance, Direction, Which Thou Canst Not See; All Discord, Harmony Not Understood; All Partial Evil, Universal Good.