Corinna, pride of Drury-Lane …
Jonathan Swift
Careful observers may foretell the hour …
Now hardly here and there a hackney-coach …
His Grace! impossible! what dead! …
Ye poets ragged and forlorn, …
APPLES …
Stella this Day is thirty four, …
This day, whate'er the Fates decree, …
When beasts could speak (the learned say, …
Five hours, (and who can do it less in?) …
Let me thy Properties explain, …
As Rochefoucauld his maxims drew …