A Sly Old Fish, Too Cunning For

The Wife Was Pretty, Trifling, Childish, Weak; She Could Not Think, But Would Not Cease To Speak.

Who Calls A Lawyer Rogue, May Find, Too Lateupon One Of These Depends His Whole Estate.

Dreams Are Like Portraits; And We Find They Please Because They Are Confessed Resemblances.

With Awe, Around These Silent Walks I Tread; These Are The Lasting Mansions Of The Dead.

In General Satire, Every Man Perceives A Slight Attack, Yet Neither Fears Nor Grieves.