When we risk no contradiction, It prompts the tongue to deal in fiction.

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

Nor love, not honor, wealth nor power, can give the heart a cheerful hour when health is lost. Be timely wise; With health all taste of pleasure flies.

Follow love and it will flee, flee love and it will follow thee.

A Wolf eats sheep but now and then; Ten thousands are devour'd by men. An open foe may prove a curse, but a pretend friend is worse.

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.