The cabinets of the sick and the closets of the dead have been ransacked to publish private letters and divulge to all mankind the most secret sentiments of friendship.

A wit with dunces, and a dunce with wits.

In death a hero, as in life a friend!

Chiefs who no more in bloody fights engage, But wise through time, and narrative with age, In summer-days like grasshoppers rejoice - A bloodless race, that send a feeble voice.

Mankind is unamendable.

Now warm in love, now with'ring in my bloom Lost in a convent's solitary gloom!

I lisp'd in numbers, for the numbers came.