Whom Drink Made Wits, Though Nature Made

Patience Is Sorrow's Salve.

Within The Brain's Most Secret Cells, A Certain Lord Chief Justice Dwells, Of Sov'reign Power, Whom One And All, With Common Voice We Reason Call.

Fashion--a Word Which Knaves And Fools May Use, Their Knavery And Folly To Excuse.

What Is This World?--a Term Which Men Have Got, To Signify Not One In Ten Knows What; A Term, Which With No More Precision Passes To Point Out Herds Of Men Than Herds Of Asses; In Common Use No More It Means, We Find, Than Many Fools In Same Opinions Joined.

The Surest Way To Health, Say What They Will, Is Never To Suppose We Shall Be Ill; Most Of The Ills Which We Poor Mortals Know From Doctors And Imagination Flow.