Presents, I Often Say, Endear Absents.

From A Poor Man, Poor In Time, I Was Suddenly Lifted Up Into A Vast Revenue; I Could See No End Of My Possessions; I Wanted Some Steward, Or Judicious Bailiff, To Manage My Estates In Time For Me.

If Dirt Were Trumps, What Hands You Would Hold!

May My Last Breath Be Drawn Through A Pipe, And Exhaled In A Jest.

A Persian's Heaven Is Eas'ly Made: 't Is But Black Eyes And Lemonade.

Reader, If You Are Gifted With Nerves Like Mine, Aspire To Any Character But That Of A Wit.