All Delays Are Dangerous In War.

When I Consider Life, 't Is All A Cheat. Yet Fool'd With Hope, Men Favour The Deceit; Trust On, And Think To-morrow Will Repay. To-morrow 's Falser Than The Former Day; Lies Worse, And While It Says We Shall Be Blest With Some New Joys, Cuts Off What We Possest. Strange Cozenage! None Would Live Past Years Again, Yet All Hope Pleasure In What Yet Remain; And From The Dregs Of Life Think To Receive What The First Sprightly Running Could Not Give.

Every Age Has A Kind Of Universal Genius, Which Inclines Those That Live In It To Some Particular Studies.

And That One Hunting, Which The Devil Design'd For One Fair Female, Lost Him Half The Kind.

For What Can Power Give More Than Food And Drink, To Live At Ease, And Not Be Bound To Think?

With How Much Ease Believe We What We Wish!