Genius Is Of No Country.

Gipsies, Who Every Ill Can Cure, Except The Ill Of Being Poor Who Charms 'gainst Love And Agues Sell, Who Can In Hen-roost Set A Spell, Prepar'd By Arts, To Them Best Known To Catch All Feet Except Their Own, Who, As To Fortune, Can Unlock It, As Easily As Pick A Pocket.

Greatly His Foes He Dreads, But More His Friends; He Hurts Me Most Who Lavishly Commends.

All Hunt For Fame, But Most Mistake The Way.

The Surest Way To Health, Say What They Will, Is Never To Suppose We Shall Be Ill; Most Of The Ills Which We Poor Mortals Know From Doctors And Imagination Flow.

Man And Wife, Coupled Together For The Sake Of Strife.