Authors, Like Coins, Grow Dear As They

Here Am I, Dying Of A Hundred Good Symptoms.

In Men, We Various Ruling Passions Find; In Women, Two Almost Divide The Kind Those, Only Fixed, They First Or Last Obey, The Love Of Pleasure, And The Love Of Sway.

To The Elysian Shades Dismiss My Soul, Where No Carnation Fades.

Our Proper Bliss Depends On What We Blame.

The Zeal Of Fools Offends At Any Time.