My Right Eye Itches, Some Good Luck

Virtue In Distress, And Vice In Triumph Make Atheists Of Mankind.

Trust Reposed In Noble Natures Obliges Them The More.

The Blushing Beauties Of A Modest Maid.

Railing In Other Men May Be A Crime, But Ought To Pass For Mere Instinct In Him: Instinct He Follows And No Further Knows, For To Write Verse With Him Is To Transprose.

It's A Hard World, Neighbors, If A Man's Oath Must Be His Master.