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…

I beg your Scholar you’ll excuse, Who dares no more debase the Muse… My Mother says, If e’er she hears… I write again on worthless Peers, Whether they’re living Lords, or…

Contented in my humble State, I look with Pity on the Great; Who only Birth, or Wealth, respec… And treat true Merit with neglect… O Pow’r supreme! let me implore

Ladies, this Entertainment we hav… Has not been rightly suited, I mu… Heroic Virtue should have been di… And Homage to heroic Virtue paid. Low Comedy supplies but mean Deli…

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…

’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…

For fleeting Life recall’d, for H… Be first the God of Life and Hea… Whose boundless Mercy claims this… And next to Heav’n, I owe my Tha… To you, who feel the Ease your Me…

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…

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…

Written when the Author was sick. Somnus, pow’rful Deity, Mortals owe their Bliss to thee. How long shall I thy Absence mour… And when be bless’d in thy Return…

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

Dear Jack, whilst you thro’ Fland… Can you forget your Friends at Ho… Say, will your Tutors give you Ti… To write to Hereticks in Rhyme? A Name they brand us with, dear Y…

See, in the Temple rais’d by Harl… His beauteous Off—spring at the A… There Mortimer resigns his darlin… To happy Portland gives the bloom… Where had the Parent’s Pray’r lik…

To you, Athenians, we again submi… Reward, or punish us, as you think… Let Idleness, unpity’d, meet Disg… For Idleness, this Year, is doubl… This is the Æra, this the destin’d…

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…