; as if they had been in a dead sleep or trance, they
remember nothing of what they have heard, seen, said, or done: this they
only know, that their past delusion was a most desirable happiness; that
therefore they bewail nothing more than the loss of it, nor wish for
any greater joy than the quick return of it, and more durable abode
for ever. And this (as I have said) is the foretaste or anticipation of
future blessedness.

But I doubt I have forgot myself, and have already transgressed the
bounds of modesty. However, if I have said anything too confidently or
impertinently, be pleased to consider that it was spoke by Folly, and
that under the person of a woman; yet at the same time remember the
applicableness of that Greek proverb:--

A fool oft speaks a seasonable truth.

Unless you will be so witty as to object that this makes no apology
for me, because the word _aunp_ signifies a man, not a woman, and
consequently my sex debars me from the benefit of that observation.

I perceive now, that, for a concluding treat, you expect a formal
epilogue, and the summing up of all in a brief recitation; but I will
assure you, you are grossly mistaken if you suppose that after such a
hodge-podge medley of speech I should be able to recollect anything I
have delivered. Beside, as it is an old proverb, _I hate a pot-companion
with a good memory_; so indeed I may as truly say, _I hate a hearer that
will carry any thing away with him_. Wherefore, in short:--

[Illustration: Tailpiece 401]

Farewell! live long, drink deep, be jolly,
Ye most illustrious votaries of folly!

A POEM ON THE FOREGOING WORK.

THERE'S ne'er a blade of honour in the town,
But if you chance to term him _fool_ and _clown_,
Straight _satisfaction_ cries, and then with speed
The time, the place, and rapier's length's decreed.
Prodigious fops, I'll swear, which can't agree
To be call'd what's their happiness to be:
Blest _Idiots!_
That in an humble sphere securely move,
And there the sweets of a safe _dulness_ prove,
Nor envy the proud heights of those who range above.
_Folly_, sure friend of a misguided will,
Affords a kind excuse for doing ill;
And _Socrates_, that prudent, thinking tool,
Had the gods lik'd him would have prov'd a _fool_.
Methinks our author, when without a flaw,
The graces of h