The Young Disease, That Must Subdue At

She Went From Opera, Park, Assembly, Play, To Morning Walks, And Prayers Three Hours A Day. To Part Her Time 'twixt Reading And Bohea, To Muse, And Spill Her Solitary Tea, Or O'er Cold Coffee Trifle With The Spoon, Count The Slow Clock, And Dine Exact At Noon.

The Worst Of Madmen Is A Saint Run Mad.

A Long, Exact, And Serious Comedy; In Every Scene Some Moral Let It Teach, And, If It Can, At Once Both Please And Preach.

Tis Use Alone That Sanctifies Expense And Splendor Borrow All Her Rays From Sense.

Trace Science, Then, With Modesty Thy Guide, First Strip Off All Her Equipage Of Pride, Deduct What Is But Vanity Or Dress, Or Learning's Luxury Or Idleness, Or Tricks, To Show The Stretch Of The Human Brain Mere Curious Pleasure Or Ingenious Pain.