Stella and Flavia, ev’ry Hour, Unnumber’d Hearts surprize: In Stella’s Soul lies all her Po… And Flavia’s, in her Eyes. More boundless Flavia’s Conquests…

Ye gentle Beaux, and thoughtless… Who gaily rove at Tunbridge—Wells… With Pockets full; and empty Look… Raffling for ev’ry Toy—but Books: Should Addison’s immortal Page

See, the bright Sun renews his an… Each Beam re—tinges, and revives… By Years uninjur’d; so may’st tho… Not Time from thee, but thou from… O might the Fates thy vital Threa…

Start not, nor tremble at the Sig… It comes not written from the Rea… ’Tis true, you see, your once—lov’… Thence may conclude from Heav’n s… Conscious perhaps of your celestia…

Should you employ your Ridicule, On those who Pity claim? Think, Birtha, is the native Fool For Wit a proper Theme? On Vice your hum’rous Vein displa…

With Joy your Summons we obey, And come to celebrate this Day. Yet I, alas! despair to please; For you require exalted Lays: And, let me write whate’er I will…

When Cynthia, Regent of the Tide… Pale in meridian Pride presides; A Sov’reign Pow’r the Goddess cl… O’er Seas, and Sea—supplying Str… The River of the richest Source

O thou, my beauteous, ever tender… Thou, on whom all my worldly Joys… Accept these Numbers; and with Pl… Unstudy’d Truth, which few, alas!… While conscious Virtue takes the…

So Ceres, lovely and divine, Eager to see her Proserpine, Blessing the Nations as she pass’… Reach’d the fell Tyrant’s Court a… Around her shot a Gleam of Light,

Who can the hardest Task refuse, When lovely Lady Betty sues? If her Requests Resistance find, It must be from the Deaf and Blin…

Tho’ the Plumb, and the Peach, wi… To present you their Softness, an… Their Aid is in vain; for what ca… But blush, and confess them selves… Where Virtue and Wit with such Q…

Since Milo rallies sacred Writ, To win the Title of a Wit; ’Tis pity but he shou’d obtain it, Who bravely pays his Soul to gain…

When lately you acquitted me, With Carteret I din’d; And, in Return, (tho’ grievous) t… To Onslow I resign’d. ’Tis wise the happy Hour to seize…

Tho’ Rhyme serves the Thoughts of… It sets off the Sense of small Po… When I’ve written in Prose, I of… That my Sense, in a Jumble of Wo… In Verse, as in Armies, that marc…

No more at Criticks, Ned, repine, Who say those Numbers are not thi… I own I was suspicious too, And thought the Verse too good fo… But since you say those Lines you…