Who Friendship With A Knave Hath Made,

What Will Not Luxury Taste? Earth, Sea, And Air, Are Daily Ransack'd For The Bill Of Fare. Blood Stuffed In Skins Is British Christians' Food, And France Robs Marshes Of The Croaking Brood.

Variety's The Source Of Joy Below, From Whence Still Fresh-revolving Pleasures Flow, In Books And Love The Mind One End Pursues, And Only Change The Expiring Flames Renews.

Whence Is Thy Learning? Hath Thy Toil O'er Books Consumed The Midnight Oil?

Music Might Tame And Civilize Wild Beasts, But 'tis Evident It Never Yet Could Tame And Civilize Musicians.

She Who Has Never Lov'd, Has Never Liv'd.