Ten censure wrong for one who writes amiss.

The lamb thy riot dooms to bleed today, Had he thy reason, would he skip and play? Pleas'd to the last he crops the flow'ry food, And licks the hand just rais'd to shed his blood.

The flower's are gone when the Fruits appear to ripen.

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!

There goes a saying, and 'twas shrewdly said, ''Old fish at table, but young flesh in bed.

Woman's at best a contradiction still.

But blind to former as to future fate, what mortal knows his pre-existent state?