The Jests Of The Rich Are Ever

Want Of Prudence Is Too Frequently The Want Of Virtue.

At Night Returning, Every Labour Sped, He Sits Him Down, The Monarch Of A Shed; Smiles By His Cheerful Fire, And Round Surveys His Children's Looks, That Brighten At The Blaze; While His Lov'd Partner, Boastful Of Her Hoard, Displays Her Cleanly Platter On The Board.

A Silent Address Is The Genuine Eloquence Of Sincerity.

As Ten Millions Of Circles Can Never Make A Square, So The United Voice Of Myriads Cannot Lend The Smallest Foundation To Falsehood.

The Wretch Condemn'd With Life To Part, Still, Still On Hope Relies; And Every Pang That Rends The Heart Bids Expectation Rise.