Come what may, I have been blest.

Society is now one polished horde, formed of two mighty tries, the Bores and Bored.

But as to women, who can penetrate the real sufferings of their she condition? Man's very sympathy with their estate has much of selfishness and more suspicion. Their love, their virtue, beauty, education, but form good housekeepers, to breed a nation.

So sweet the blush of bashfulness, E'en pity scarce can wish it less!

He who grown aged in this world of woe, In deeds, not years, piercing the depths of life, So that no wonder waits him.

Death, so called, is a thing which makes men weep, And yet a third of life is passed in sleep.

Men think highly of those who rise rapidly in the world; whereas nothing rises quicker than dust, straw, and feathers.