Variety's the source of joy below, From whence still fresh-revolving pleasures flow, In books and love the mind one end pursues, And only change the expiring flames renews.

By outward show let's not be cheated; An ass should like an ass be treated.

In beauty faults conspicuous grow; The smallest speck is seen on snow.

The fly that sips treacle is lost in the sweets.

If with me you'd fondly stray Over the hills and far away.

Fair is the marigold, for pottage meet.

Twas when the seas were roaring With hollow blasts of wind, A damsel lay deploring, All on a rock reclined.