Wretched Un-idea'd Girls.

The Present Is Never A Happy State To Any Human Being.

Condemned To Hope's Delusive Mine, As On We Toil From Day To Day, By Sudden Blasts Or Slow Decline Our Social Comforts Drop Away.

There Will Always Be A Part, And Always A Very Large Part Of Every Community, That Have No Care But For Themselves, And Whose Care For Themselves Reaches Little Further Than Impatience Of Immediate Pain, And Eagerness For The Nearest Good.

The Complaint, Therefore, That All Topicks Are Preoccupied, Is Nothing More Than The Murmur Of Ignorance Or Idleness, By Which Some Discourage Others, And Some Themselves; The Mutability Of Mankind Will Always Furnish Writers With New Images, And The Luxuriance Of Fancy May Always Embellish Them With New Decorations.

Luxury, So Far As It Reaches The People, Will Do Good To The Race Of People; It Will Strengthen And Multiply Them. Sir, No Nation Was Ever Hurt By Luxury; For, As I Said Before; It Can Reach But A Very Few.