I read in your delighted Face, The Nuptial Bands are ty’d: From me congratulate her Grace, Young Portland’s lovely Bride. Tell her, an humble, artless Muse

Uncommon Charms, I plainly see, Compleat the Fair for Tyranny. Then, lest your Form should make… Of Conquest, and of giving Pain, Those, whom your Beauties have en…

Remote from Strife, from urban Th… Here dwells my Soul amidst domest… No ratling Coaches serious Though… Nor busy prating Fools my Peace d… Wrapt up in all the Sweets of rur…

Return, brave Youth! suspend thy… Nor, like great Berwick, in the F… Illustrious Exile! thou art gone… Thy Toils, and various Dangers no… The royal Blood, which flow’d in…

Fair Innocence, the Muses lovelic… On Acts of Mercy sound thy rising… Let others from frail Beauty hope… Plead thou the Fatherless, and Wi… Fly to your Mother; let each winn…

Dear Philomela, oft you condescen… With Notes seraphic, to transport… Then in Return, let Verse your S… Wise, as your Converse, rapt’rous…

Whilst Gay’s unhappy Fate thy Ea… Thy Heart, indignant, scorns his… Thy gen’rous Heart, which never l… A Friend or to deceive, or to bet… With Honour and Integrity so bles…

Why, lovely Lelia, so depress’d? With wonted Smiles your Eyes ador… Drive gloomy Sorrow from your Bre… And shine out, beauteous, as the… The fair Pendarvis bid me try,

Eternal King, is there one Hour, To make me greatly bless’d? When shall I have it in my Pow’r To succour the Distress’d? In vain, alas! my Heart o’erflows

How well these Laymen love to gib… And throw their Jests on Levi’s… Must One be toil’d to Death, they… Whilst other Priests are yawning… Forgetful that He reaps the Gain,

Dear Rose, as I lately was writin… Which I next Day intended in Sch… My Mother came in, and I thought… ‘This Mr. Macmullen has ruin’d my… ‘He uses me ill, and the World sh…

’Tis theirs, who but to please asp… On Fiction to employ the Lyre; Make Gods and Goddesses display The Splendor of the Nuptial Day. To paint thee at the hallow’d Shr…

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…

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…

So little giv’n at Chapel Door!— This People doubtless must be poo… So much at Gaming thrown away!— No Nation sure so rich as they. Britons, ’twere greatly for your…