No. 42. The misery of a modish lady in solitude.
How heavily my time revolves along.
How heavily my time revolves along.
The time comes at last, in which life has no more to promise, in which happiness can be drawn only from recollection.
If he succeeds, he benefits his friend, and if he fails, he has at least the consciousness that he suffers for only doing well.
Unblest, still doom’d to wed with misery.
it has been observed that happiness, as well as virtue, consists in mediocrity
If we search the writings of Virgil for the true definition of a pastoral, it will be found a poem in which any action or passion is represented by its effects upon a country life.
I am afraid it will not be found easy to improve the pastorals of antiquity, by any great additions or diversifications.
Such, Sir, was my situation for seven years, till at last my patience was exhausted.
Thus our whole conversation passed in dangers, and cares, and fears, and consolations, and stories of ladies dragged in the mire…
Alternate rest and labour long endure.