Sir, You Have But Two

The Applause Of A Single Human Being Is Of Great Consequence.

An Age That Melts In Unperceiv'd Decay, And Glides In Modest Innocence Away.

What A Strange Narrowness Of Mind Now Is That, To Think The Things We Have Not Known Are Better Than The Things We Have Known.

Solitude Is The Surest Nurse Of All Prurient Passions, And A Girl In The Hurry Of Preparation, Or Tumult Of Gaiety, Has Neither Inclination Nor Leisure To Let Tender Expressions Soften Or Sink Into Her Heart. The Ball, The Show, Are Not The Dangerous Places: No, 'tis The Private Friend, The Kind Consoler, The Companion Of The Easy Vacant Hour, Whose Compliance With Her Opinions Can Flatter Her Vanity, And Whose Conversation Can Sooth, Without Ever Stretching Her Mind, That Is The Lover To Be Feared: He Who Buzzes In Her Ear At Court, Or At The Opera, Must Be Contented To Buzz In Vain.

No Man Can Perform So Little As Not To Have Reason To Congratulate Himself On His Merits, When He Beholds The Multitude That Live In Total Idleness, And Have Never Yet Endeavoured To Be Useful.