Aaron Hill

Just as the felon condemn'd to die--
With a very natural loathing--
Leaving the sheriff to dream read more

Just as the felon condemn'd to die--
With a very natural loathing--
Leaving the sheriff to dream of ropes,
From his gloomy cell in a vision elopes,
To caper on sunny greens and slopes,
Instead of the dance upon nothing.

Tender-handed stroke a nettle,
And it stings you for your pains;
Grasp it like a man of read more

Tender-handed stroke a nettle,
And it stings you for your pains;
Grasp it like a man of mettle,
And it soft as silk remains.
'Tis the same with common natures,
Use 'em kindly, they rebel;
But, be rough as nutmeg-graters,
And the rogues obey you well.

She was one of those who by fortune's boon
Are born, as they say, with a silver spoon
read more

She was one of those who by fortune's boon
Are born, as they say, with a silver spoon
In her mouth, not a wooden ladle.

Letters, from absent friends, extinguish fear,
Unite division, and draw distance near;
Their magic force each silent read more

Letters, from absent friends, extinguish fear,
Unite division, and draw distance near;
Their magic force each silent wish conveys,
And wafts embodied though, a thousand ways:
Could souls to bodies write, death's pow'r were mean,
For minds could then meet minds with heav'n between.

Tender handed stroke a nettle,
And it stings you for your pains;
Grasp it like a man read more

Tender handed stroke a nettle,
And it stings you for your pains;
Grasp it like a man of mettle,
And it soft as silk remains.