Let Others speak your Titles, and… Accept from Me the glorious Name… This Honour only from fair Virtue… Ennobles Slaves, adds Dignity to… O Born to shew Nobility design’d

I little thought that honest Dick Would slight me so, when I was si… Is he a Friend, who only stays, Whilst Health and Pleasure gild o… Flies, when Disease our Temper so…

To Day, as at my Glass I stood, To set my Head—cloaths, and my Ho… I saw my grizzled Locks with Drea… And call’d to mind the Gorgon’s H… Thought I, whate’er the Poets say…

’Tis Time to conclude; for I make… To leave off all Writing, when Co… He dislikes what I’ve written, an… To send what he calls a poetical… To this I reply’d, You are out of…

Obrian, were in Story told, Thy Ancestors wore Crowns of old: In fair Hibernia’s Isle they reig… A Country, by their Sons disdain’… Too apt to charge their Native Is…

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

Say, Worsdcal, where you learn’d… To paint the Goodness of the Hear… The flatt’ring Teint let others p… You call the Soul into the Eyes: There we the various Virtues trac…

Faint—Fair, and act a Play. In some few Hours we must repair, To act, like Thespis, in the Fair… And, as our Stage is of a Piece With that transmitted down from G…

Is what we owe great William then Forgotten by ungrateful Men? And has His Fame run out its Dat… Who snatch’d us from the Brink of… Else, why should Scholars, Sir,…

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

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…

Madam, I hear, and hear with Sorr… That we’re to lose Your Grace To… Nor you alone, but Lady Di. Where, thus deserted, shall I fly… Am I condemn’d to live in Pain,

Ye heedless Fair, who pass the li… In Dress and Scandal, Gallantry… Who thro’ new Scenes of Pleasure… Whilst Life’s important Business… Look here, when guilty Conquests…

An Epigram You cry, She’s bred in the Old W… Then into Laughter fall: Were she as just to you, she’d say… You are not bred at all.

A mother, who vast Pleasure finds In modelling her Childrens Minds; With whom, in exquisite Delight, She passes many a Winter Night; Mingles in ev’ry Play, to find