Superstition Is The Spleen Of The Soul.

Blest Paper-credit! Last And Best Supply! That Lends Corruption Lighter Wings To Fly!

No, Make Me Mistress To The Man I Love; If There Be Yet Another Name More Free More Fond Than Mistress, Make Me That To Thee!

In The Nice Bee, What Sense So Subtly True From Pois'nous Herbs Extracts The Healing Dew?

Homer Excels All The Inventors Of Other Arts In This: That He Has Swallowed Up The Honor Of Those Who Succeeded Him.

In Various Talk Th' Instructive Hours They Past, Who Gave The Ball, Or Paid The Visit Last; One Speaks The Glory Of The British Queen, And One Describes A Charming Indian Screen; A Third Interprets Motions, Looks, And Eyes; At Every Word A Reputation Dies.