In Proportion As Society Refines, New Books

They Please, Are Pleas'd, They Give To Get Esteem Till, Seeming Blest, They Grow To What They Seem.

Like The Bee, We Should Make Our Industry Our Amusement.

Wept O'er His Wounds, Or Tales Of Sorrow Done, Shoulder'd His Crutch, And Shew'd How Fields Were Won.

If You Were To Make Little Fishes Talk, They Would Talk Like Whales.

Novels Teach The Youthful Mind To Sigh After Happiness That Never Existed.