Wit And Judgment Often Are At Strife.

Eve Left Adam, To Meet The Devil In Private.

A Fly, A Grape-stone, Or A Hair Can Kill.

Oh! If To Dance All Night, And Dress All Day, Charm'd The Small-pox, Or Chas'd Old Age Away; . . . . To Patch, Nay Ogle, Might Become A Saint, Nor Could It Sure Be Such A Sin To Paint.

O Let Us Still The Secret Joy Partake, To Follow Virtue Even For Virtue's Sake.

Rogues In Rags Are Kept In Countenance By Rogues In Ruffles.