If You Don't Ask Me Questions, I

I Learn Several Great Truths; As That It Is Impossible To See Into The Ways Of Futurity, That Punishment Always Attends The Villain, That Love Is The Fond Soother Of The Human Breast.

If The Soul Be Happily Disposed, Every Thing Becomes Capable Of Affording Entertainment, And Distress Will Almost Want A Name.

One Man Is Born With A Silver Spoon In His Mouth, And The Other With A Wooden Ladle.

Error Is Always Talkative.

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.