There should be, methinks, as little merit in loving a woman for her beauty as in loving a man for his prosperity; both being equally subject to change.

A fellow feeling makes us wondrous kind.

Know then this truth, enough for man to know virtue alone is happiness below.

Religion blushing, veils her sacred fires, And unawares Morality expires.

Gentle dullness ever loves a joke.

Cursed be the verse, how well so e'er it flow, That tends to make one worthy man my foe.

And die of nothing but a rage to live.