Oliver Goldsmith

When lovely woman stoops to folly,

And finds too late that men betray,

What charm can soothe her melancholy,

What art can wash her guilt away?

A kind and gentle heart he had,

To comfort friends and foes;

The naked every day he clad

When he put on his clothes.

We sometimes had those little rubs which Providence sends to enhance the value of its favors.

And in that town a dog was found,

As many dogs there be,

Both mongrel, puppy, whelp, and hound,

And curs of low degree.

I...chose a wife, as she did her wedding gown, not for a fine glossy surface, but such qualities as would wear well.

And what is friendship but a name,

A charm that lulls to sleep,

A shade that follows wealth or fame,

And leaves the wretch to weep?

Man wants but little here below,

Nor wants that little long.

I find you want me to furnish you with argument and intellects too.

No flocks that range the valley free

To slaughter I condemn;

Taught by that Power that pities me,

I learn to pity them:

But from the mountain’s grassy side

A guiltless feast I bring;

A scrip with herbs and fruits supplied,

And water from the spring.

They would talk of nothing but high life, and high-lived company, with other fashionable topics, such as pictures, taste, Shakespeare, and the musical glasses.

It seemed to be pretty plain, that they had more of love than matrimony in them.

The premises being thus settled, I proceed to observe that the concatenation of self-existence, proceeding in a reciprocal duplicate ratio, naturally produces a problematical dialogism, which in some measure proves that the essence of spirituality may be referred to the second predicable.