"With ev'ry pleasing, ev'ry prudent part, Say, what can Chloe want?"-She wants a heart.

To the Elysian shades dismiss my soul, where no carnation fades.

I believe no one qualification is so likely to make a good writer, as the power of rejecting his own thoughts.

Whoe'er he be That tells my faults, I hate him mortally.

Pleased to the last, he crops the flowery food, And licks the hand just raised to shed his blood.

When we are young, we are slavishly employed in procuring something whereby we may live comfortably when we grow old; and when we are old, we perceive it is too late to live as we proposed.

Oh! be thou blest with all that Heaven can send, Long health, long youth, long pleasure-and a friend.