O Polly, You Might Have Toyed And

Good Housewives All The Winter's Rage Despise, Defended By The Riding-hood's Disguise; Or, Underneath The Umbrella's Oily Shade, Safe Through The Wet On Clinking Pattens Tread, Let Persian Dames The Unbrella's Ribs Display, To Guard Their Beauties From The Sunny Ray; Or Sweating Slaves Support The Shady Load, When Eastern Monarchs Show Their State Abroad; Britain In Winter Only Knows Its Aid, To Guard From Chilling Showers The Walking Maid.

I Cannot Raise My Worth Too High; Of What Vast Consequence Am I! "not Of The Importance You Suppose," Replies A Flea Upon His Nose; "be Humble, Learn Thyself To Scan; Know, Pride Was Never Made For Man.

From Kings To Cobblers 'tis The Same; Bad Servants Wound Their Masters' Fame.

To Shoot At Crows Is Powder Flung Away.

I Hate The Man Who Builds His Name On Ruins Of Another's Fame. Thus Prudes, By Characters O'erthrown, Imagine That They Raise Their Own. Thus Scribblers, Covetous Of Praise, Think Slander Can Transplant The Bays.