England a fortune-telling host, As num'rous as the stars, could boast; Matrons, who toss the cup, and see The grounds of Fate in grounds of tea.
The proud will sooner lose than ask their way.
All hunt for fame, but most mistake the way.
Whom drink made wits, though nature made them fools.
He mouths a sentence as curs mouth a bone.
The surest way to health, say what they will, Is never to suppose we shall be ill; Most of the ills which we poor mortals know From doctors and imagination flow.