Fear Guides More To Their Duty Than

Who, Born For The Universe, Narrow'd His Mind, And To Party Gave Up What Was Meant For Mankind; Though Fraught With All Learning, Yet Straining His Throat To Persuade Tommy Townshend To Lend Him A Vote. Who Too Deep For His Hearers Still Went On Refining, And Thought Of Convincing While They Thought Of Dining: Though Equal To All Things, For All Things Unfit; Too Nice For A Statesman, Too Proud For A Wit.

An Emperor In His Nightcap Will Not Meet With Half The Respect Of An Emperor With A Crown.

Sweet Was The Sound, When Oft, At Evening's Close, Up Yonder Hill The Village Murmur Rose; There As I Passed, With Careless Steps And Slow, The Mingling Notes Came Soften'd From Below; The Swain Responsive As The Milkmaid Sung, The Sober Herd That Low'd To Meet Their Young; The Noisy Geese That Gabbled O'er The Pool, The Playful Children Just Let Loose From School; The Watch-dog's Voice That Bay'd The Whispering Wind, And The Loud Laugh That Spoke The Vacant Mind; These All In Sweet Confusion Sought The Shade, And Fill'd Each Pause The Nightingale Had Made.

Want Of Prudence Is Too Frequently The Want Of Virtue.

Every Acknowledgment Of Gratitude Is A Circumstance Of Humiliation; And Some Are Found To Submit To Frequent Mortifications Of This Kind, Proclaiming What Obligations They Owe, Merely Because They Think It In Some Measure Cancels The Debt.