The sun was set; the night came on apace, And falling dews bewet around the place; The bat takes airy rounds on leathern wings, And the hoarse owl his woeful dirges sings.

Envy's a sharper spur than pay.

Give me, kind heaven, a private station, a mind serene for contemplation.

'T is woman that seduces all mankind; By her we first were taught the wheedling arts.

[Gulliver was soon being read] "from the cabinet council to the nursery".

What happiness the rural maid attends, In cheerful labour while each day she spends! She gratefully receives what Heav'n has sent, And, rich in poverty, enjoys content.

Fools may our scorn, not envy, raise. For envy is a kind of praise.