The person whose clothes are extremely fine I am too apt to consider as not being possessed of any superiority of fortune, but resembling those Indians who are found to wear all the gold they have in the world in a bob at the nose.

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.

Even children follow'd with endearing wile, And pluck'd his gown, to share the good man's smile.

The heart of every man lies open to the shafts of correction if the archer can take proper aim.

Embosom'd in the deep where Holland lies. Methinks her patient sons before me stand, Where the broad ocean leans against the land.

People seldom improve when they have no other model but themselves to copy.

Her modest looks the cottage might adorn, Sweet as the primrose peeps beneath the thorn.