There Is A Greatness In Being Generous,

The Hawthorn Bush, With Seats Beneath The Shade, For Talking Age And Whispering Lovers Made.

All His Faults Are Such That One Loves Him Still The Better For Them.

Books Are Necessary To Correct The Vices Of The Polite; But Those Vices Are Ever Changing, And The Antidote Should Be Changed Accordingly Should Still Be New.

Processions, Cavalcades, And All That Fund Of Gay Frippery, Furnished Out By Tailors, Barbers, And Tire-women, Mechanically Influence The Mind Into Veneration; An Emperor In His Nightcap Would Not Meet With Half The Respect Of An Emperor With A Crown.

The Very Pink Of Perfection.