Some go to Church, proud humbly to repent, And come back much more guilty than they went: One way they look, another way they steer, Pray to the Gods; but would have Mortals hear; And when their sins they set sincerely down, They'll find that their Religion has been one.

A strange alternative * * *Must women have a doctor or a dance?

As in smooth oil the razor best is whet, So wit is by politeness sharpest set; Their want of edge from their offence is seen, Both pain us least when exquisitely keen.

Final Ruin fiercely drives Her ploughshare o'er creation.

Affliction is a good man's shining time.

Take God from nature, nothing great is left.

They most the world enjoy who least admire.