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

Most women have no characters at all.

To observations which ourselves we make, we grow more partial for th' observer's sake.

See skulking Truth to her old cavern fled, Mountains of Casuistry heap'd o'er her head! Philosophy, that lean'd on Heav'n before, Shrinks to her second cause, and is no more. Physic of Metaphysic begs defence, And Metaphysic calls for aid on Sense! See Mystery to Mathematics fly!

It is sure the hardest science to forget!

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

Our judgments, like our watches, none go just alike, yet each believes his own