Nothing But You Can Lay Hold Of

I Know A Lady That Loves To Talk So Incessantly, She Won't Give An Echo Fair Play; She Has That Everlasting Rotation Of Tongue That An Echo Must Wait Till She Dies Before It Can Catch Her Last Words!

There Are Come Critics So With Spleen Diseased, They Scarcely Come Inclining To Be Pleased: And Sure He Must Have More Than Mortal Skill, Who Please One Against His Will.

Delay Not Till Tomorrow To Be Wise; Tomorrow's Sun To Thee May Neve Rise.

To Converse With Scandal Is To Play At Losing Loadum, You Must Lose A Good Name To Him, Before You Can Win It For Yourself.

It Is The Business Of A Comic Poet To Paint The Vices And Follies Of Human Kind.