Ill fares the land, to hastening ills a prey, Where wealth accumulates, and men decay.

A flattering painter, who made it his care To draw men as they ought to be, not as they are.

Those who place their affections at first on trifles for amusement, will find these trifles become at last their most serious concerns.

I do not love a man who is zealous for nothing.

Wealth accumulates, and men decay.

Good people all, with one accord, Lament for Madam Blaize, Who never wanted a good word From those who spoke her praise.

Some fleeting good, that mocks me with the view.