Want of prudence is too frequently the want of virtue.
Good people all, with one accord, Lament for Madam Blaize, Who never wanted a good word From those who spoke her praise.
Both wit and understanding are trifles without integrity.
A man he was to all the country dear, And passing rich with forty pounds a year.
Wept o'er his wounds, or tales of sorrow done, Shoulder'd his crutch, and shew'd how fields were won.
Modesty seldom resides in a breast that is not enriched with nobler virtues.