Round-heads And Wooden-shoes Are Standing Jokes.

A Jealous Man Is Very Quick In His Application: He Knows How To Find A Double Edge In An Invective, And To Draw A Satire On Himself Out Of A Panegyrick On Another.

My Heart Leaps At The Trumpet's Voice.

The Soul, Secured In Her Existence, Smiles At The Drawn Dagger, And Defies Its Point.

I Have Often Reflected Within Myself On This Unaccountable Humor In Womankind Of Being Smitten With Everything That Is Showy And Superficial, And On The Numberless Evils That Befall The Sex From This Light Fantastical Disposition.

Waning Moons Their Settled Periods Keep, To Swell The Billows And Ferment The Deep.