"Exhausted Florio, at the age When youth should rush on glory's stage, When life should open fresh and new, And ardent Hope her schemes pursue, Of youthful gayety bereft, Had scarce an unbroached pleasure left; He found already, to his cost, The shining gloss of life was lost, And Pleasure was so coy a prude, She fled the more, the more pursued; Or, if o'ertaken and caressed, He loathed and left her when possessed. But Florio knew the world; that science Sets sense and learning at defiance; He thought the world to him was known, Whereas he only knew the _town_. In men this blunder still you find: All think their little set--mankind. Though high renown the youth had gained, No flagrant crimes his life had stained; Though known among _a certain set_, He did not like to be in debt; He shuddered at the dicer's box, Nor thought it very heterodox That tradesmen should be sometimes paid, And bargains kept as well as made. His growing credit, as a sinner, Was, that he liked to spoil a dinner, Made pleasure and made business wait, And still by system came too late; Yet 'twas a hopeful indication On which to found a reputation: Small habits, well pursued, betimes May reach the dignity of crimes; And who a juster claim preferred Than one who always broke his word?" The death of Garrick may be considered an era in the life of Miss More. His wit, his gayety, his intelligence, added to his admiration of her genius, and the warmth of his friendship for her, formed the strongest spell that held her in subjection to the fascinations of brilliant society and town life. The early feeling which prompted the infant wish for "a cottage too low for a clock" was still fresh in her bosom. The country, with its green pastures and still waters, still retained its charms for her. "I have naturally," she writes, "but a small appetite for grandeur, which is always satisfied, even to indigestion, before I leave town; and I require a long abstinence to get any relish for it again." After the death of her friend, she carried into execution the resolution she had long cherished, of passing a portion of her time in retirement in the country. With this view, she possessed herself of a little secluded spot, which had acquired the name of "Cowslip Green," near Bristol. Still, however, her sensibility to kindness would not let her withhold herself entirely from her London friends; her annual visits to Mrs. Garrick brought her back into contact with the world and its crowded resorts.