And, after all, what is a lie? 'Tis but The truth in masquerade; and I defy Historians-heroes- lawyers-priests, to put A fact without some leaven of a lie.

O man! thou feeble tenant of an hour, Debased by slavery, or corrupt by power, Who knows thee well must quit thee with disgust, Degraded mass of animated dust! Thy love is lust, thy friendship all a cheat, Thy smiles hypocrisy, thy word deceit! By nature vile, ennobled but by name, Each kindred brute might bid thee blush for shame.

Society is smoothed to that excess, That manners hardly differ more than dress.

But I had not quite fixed whether to make him [Don Juan] end in Hell-or in an unhappy marriage,-not knowing which would be the severest.

Ready money is Aladdin's lamp.

Ah! surely Nothing dies but Something mourns!

Oh! there is an organ playing in the street-a waltz too! I must leave off to listen.

Novelties please less than they impress.

What is the worst of woes that wait on Age? What stamps the wrinkle deeper on the brow? To view each loved one blotted from Life's page, And be alone on earth, as I am now.

Years steal Fire from the mind as vigour from the limb; And Life's enchanted cup but sparkles near the brim.