Can love be controll'd by advice?

Thus shadow owes its birth to light.

O Polly, you might have toyed and kissed, by keeping men off, you keep them on.

Is there no hope? the sick man said, The silent doctor shook his head, And took his leave with signs of sorrow, Despairing of his fee to-morrow.

Praising all alike, is praising none.

Let firm, well hammer'd soles protect thy feet Through freezing snows, and rains, and soaking sleet; Should the big last extend the shoe too wide, Each stone will wrench the unwary step aside; The sudden turn may stretch the swelling vein, The cracking joint unhinge, or ankle sprain; And when too short the modish shoes are worn, You'll judge the seasons by your shooting corn.

Youth's the season made for joys, Love is then our duty.