That Prose Is A Verse,

The Light Of Love, The Purity Of Grace, The Mind, The Music Breathing From Her Face, The Heart Whose Softness Harmonised The Whole — And, Oh! That Eye Was In Itself A Soul!

Tis Pleasant Purchasing Our Fellow-creatures; And All Are To Be Sold, If You Consider Their Passions, And Are Dext'rous; Some By Features Are Brought Up, Others By A Warlike Leader; Some By A Place--as Tend Their Years Or Natures; The Most By Ready Cash--but All Have Prices, From Crowns To Kicks, According To Their Vices.

Be Hypocritical, Be Cautious, Be Not What You Seem But Always What You See.

Better To Sink Beneath The Shock Than Moulder Piecemeal On The Rock!

There Is No Such Thing As A Life Of Passion Any More Than A Continuous Earthquake, Or An Eternal Fever. Besides, Who Would Ever Shave Themselves In Such A State?