Beauty Is The Lover's Gift.

They Are At The End Of The Gallery; Retired To Their Tea And Scandal, According To Their Ancient Custom.

I Am A Fool, I Know It; And Yet, Heaven Help Me, I'm Poor Enough To Be A Wit.

Invention Flags, His Brain Goes Muddy, And Black Despair Succeeds Brown Study.

Nor Hell A Fury, Like A Woman Scorn'd.

It Is The Business Of A Comic Poet To Paint The Vices And Follies Of Human Kind.