The fly that sips treacle is lost in the sweets.
Of all the fools that pride can boast, A Coxcomb claims distinction most.
What will not luxury taste? Earth, sea, and air, Are daily ransack'd for the bill of fare. Blood stuffed in skins is British Christians' food, And France robs marshes of the croaking brood.
No author ever spar'd a brother.
Exercise thy lasting youth defends.
Twas when the seas were roaring With hollow blasts of wind, A damsel lay deploring, All on a rock reclined.