Is Pride, The Never-failing Vice Of Fools.

Where's The Man Who Counsel Can Bestow, Still Pleased To Teach, And Yet Not Proud To Know.

Two Women Seldom Grow Intimate But At The Expense Of A Third Person; They Make Friendships As Kings Of Old Made Leagues, Who Sacrificed Some Poor Animal Betwixt Them, And Commenced Strict Allies; So The Ladies, After They Have Pulled Some Character To Pieces, Are From Henceforth Inviolable Friends.

Religion Blushing, Veils Her Sacred Fires, And Unawares Morality Expires.

Intestine War No More Our Passions Wage, And Giddy Factions Bear Away Their Rage.

Whether The Charmer Sinner It, Or Saint It, If Folly Grow Romantic, I Must Paint It.