It world be well had we more misers than we have among us.
It seemed to me pretty plain, that they had more of love than matrimony in them.
Like the bee, we should make our industry our amusement.
Elegy on the Death of a Mad Dog And in that town a dog was found, As many dogs there be, Both mongrel, puppy, whelp, and hound, And curs of low degree.
On the stage he was natural, simple, affecting, 'Twas only when he was off, he was acting.
To what fortuitous occurrence do we not owe every pleasure and convenience of our lives.