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A Long, Exact, And Serious Comedy; In Every Scene Some Moral Let It Teach, And, If It Can, At Once Both Please And Preach.

-Alexander Pope

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A Long, Exact, And

Alexander Pope

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A Long, Exact, And Serious Comedy; In Every Scene Some Moral Let It Teach, And, If It Can, At Once Both Please And Preach.

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If It Be The Chief Point Of Friendship To Comply With A Friends Motions And Inclinations, He Possesses This In A Eminent Degree; He Lies Down When I Sit, And Walks When I Walk, Which Is More Than Many Good Friends Can Pretend To Do.

Consult The Genius Of The Place In All.

Pleasure, Or Wrong Or Rightly Understood, Our Greatest Evil, Or Our Greatest Good.

Some People Are Commended For A Giddy Kind Of Good-humor, Which Is As Much A Virtue As Drunkenness.

A Youth Of Frolic, An Old Age Of Cards.

Great Oaks Grow From Little Acorns. He Has A Green Thumb. He Has Green Fingers. He's Sowing His Wild Oats. Here Ceres' Gifts In Waving Prospect Stand, And Nodding Tempt The Joyful Reaper's Hand.

Virtuous And Vicious Every Man Must Be, Few In The Extreme, But All In The Degree.

The Pure And Noble, The Graceful And Dignified, Simplicity Of Language Is Nowhere In Such Perfection As In The Scriptures And Homer. The Whole Book Of Job, With Regard Both To Sublimity Of Thought And Morality, Exceeds, Beyond All Comparison, The Most Noble Parts Of Homer.

Who Sees With Equal Eye, As God Of All, A Hero Perish Or A Sparrow Fall, Atoms Or Systems Into Ruin Hurl'd, And Now A Bubble Burst, And Now A World.

Unblemish'd Let Me Live Or Die Unknown; Oh, Grant An Honest Fame, Or Grant Me None!

For He Lives Twice Who Can At Once Employ, The Present Well, And E'en The Past Enjoy.

Time Management

Praise Undeserved, Is Satire In Disguise.

Fools Admire, But Men Of Sense Approve.

Careless Of Censure, Nor Too Fond Of Fame, Still Pleased To Praise, Yet Not Afraid To Blame, Averse Alike To Flatter Or Offend, Not Free From Faults, Nor Yet Too Vain To Mend.

I Lose My Patience, And I Own It Too, When Works Are Censur'd, Not As Bad But New; While If Our Elders Break All Reason's Laws, These Fools Demand Not Pardon But Applause.

With Sharpen'd Sight Pale Antiquaries Pore, Th' Inscription Value, But The Rust Adore. This The Blue Varnish, That The Green Endears; The Sacred Rust Of Twice Ten Hundred Years.

An Honest Man's The Noblest Work Of God.

Judges And Senates Have Been Bought For Gold; Esteem And Love Were Never To Be Sold.

But Touch Me, And No Minister So Sore. Whoe'er Offends, At Some Unlucky Time Slides Into Verse, And Hitches In A Rhyme, Sacred To Ridicule His Whole Life Long, And The Sad Burthen Of Some Merry Song.

A Little Learning Is A Dangerous Thing; Drink Deep, Or Taste Not The Pierian Spring.

Then Sculpture And Her Sister Arts Revived; Stones Leaped To Form, And Rocks Began To Live.

Then, At The Last And Only Couplet Fraught With Some Unmeaning Thing They Call A Thought, A Needless Alexandrine Ends The Song, That, Like A Wounded Snake, Drags Its Slow Length Along.

To Wake The Soul By Tender Strokes Of Art, To Raise The Genius, And To Mend The Heart

Not Half So Swift The Trembling Doves Can Fly, When The Fierce Eagle Cleaves The Liquid Sky; Not Half So Swiftly The Fierce Eagle Moves, When Thro' The Clouds He Drives The Trembling Doves.

The Vanity Of Human Life Is Like A River, Constantly Passing Away, And Yet Constantly Coming On.

To Endeavor To Work Upon The Vulgar With Fine Sense Is Like Attempting To Hew Blocks With A Razor.

At Length Corruption, Like A General Flood (so Long By Watchful Ministers Withstood), Shall Deluge All; And Avarice, Creeping On, Spread Like A Low-born Mist, And Blot The Sun.

Wine Works The Heart Up, Wakes The Wit, There Is No Cure 'gainst Age But It

The Villain's Censure Is Extorted Praise.

The Blest To-day Is As Completely So, As Who Began A Thousand Years Ago.

Love, Hope, And Joy, Fair Pleasure's Smiling Train, Hate, Fear, And Grief, The Family Of Pain, These Mix'd With Art, And To Due Bounds Confin'd Make And Maintain The Balance Of The Mind.

Authors Are Partial To Their Wit, 'tis True, But Are Not Critics To Their Judgment, Too?

Curse On All Laws But Those Which Love Has Made.

I Find Myself Hoping A Total End Of All The Unhappy Divisions Of Mankind By Party-spirit, Which At Best Is But The Madness Of Many For The Gain Of A Few.

Pleas'd Look Forward, Pleas'd To Look Behind,and Count Each Birthday With A Grateful Mind.

A Wit With Dunces, And A Dunce With Wits.

Cursed Be The Verse, How Well So E'er It Flow, That Tends To Make One Worthy Man My Foe.

Whatever Is, Is Right.

Beauties In Vain Their Pretty Eyes May Roll; Charms Strike The Sight, But Merit Wins The Soul.

From Nature's Chain Whatever Link You Strike, Tenth Or Ten Thousandth, Breaks The Chain Alike.

The Scripture In Times Of Disputes Is Like An Open Town In Times Of War, Which Serves In Differently The Occasions Of Both Parties.

Expression Is The Dress Of Thought.

So Vast Is Art, So Narrow Human Wit.

While I Live, No Rich Or Noble Knave Shall Walk The World In Credit To His Grave.

Oh! Blest With Temper, Whose Unclouded Ray Can Make To-morrow Cheerful As To-day.

Fine Sense And Exalted Sense Are Not Half So Useful As Common Sense. There Are Forty Men Of Wit For One Man Of Sense; And He That Will Carry Nothing About Him But Gold, Will Be Every Day At A Loss For Want Of Readier Change.

Die Of A Rose In Aromatic Pain.

Envy Will Merit As Its Shade Pursue, But Like A Shadow, Proves The Substance True.

Nature And Nature's Laws Lay Hid In The Night. God Said, Let Newton Be! And All Was Light!

The Flower's Are Gone When The Fruits Appear To Ripen.

Like Cato, Give His Little Senate Laws, And Sit Attentive To His Own Applause.

Fly, Dotard, Fly! With Thy Wise Dreams And Fables Of The Sky.

Sickness Is A Sort Of Early Old Age; It Teaches Us A Diffidence In Our Earthly State.

It Is Not So Much The Being Exempt From Faults, As Having Overcome Them, That Is An Advantage To Us.

Fortune In Men Has Some Small Diff'rence Made, One Flaunts In Rags, One Flutters In Brocade, The Cobbler Apron'd, And The Parson Gown'd, The Friar Hooded, And The Monarch Crown'd.

When Much Dispute Has Past, We Find Our Tenets Just The Same As Last.

So Man, Who Here Seems Principal Alone, Perhaps Acts Second To Some Sphere Unknown Touches Some Wheel, Or Verges To Some Goal; 'tis But A Part We See, And Not A Whole.

True Self-love And Social Are The Same.

Gentle Dullness Ever Loves A Joke.

Tis Strange The Miser Should His Cares Employto Gain Those Riches He Can Ne'er Enjoy;is It Less Strange The Prodigal Should Wastehis Wealth To Purchase What He Ne'er Can Taste?

All Nature Is But Art Unknown To Thee.

Hear How The Birds, On Ev'ry Blooming Spray, With Joyous Musick Wake The Dawning Day.

Who Dies In Youth And Vigour, Dies The Best.

The Physician, By The Study And Inspection Of Urine And Ordure, Approves Himself In The Science; And In Like Sort Should Our Author Accustom And Exercise His Imagination Upon The Dregs Of Nature.

But Just Disease To Luxury Succeeds, And Ev'ry Death Its Own Avenger Breeds.

Disease And Death

When Two People Compliment Each Other With The Choice Of Anything, Each Of Them Generally Gets That Which He Likes Least.

Who Pants For Glory, Finds But Short Repose; A Breath Revives Him, Or A Breath O'erthrows.

There Are Certain Times When Most People Are In A Disposition Of Being Informed, And 'tis Incredible What A Vast Good A Little Truth Might Do, Spoken In Such Seasons.

To Swear Is Neither Brave, Polite, Nor Wise.

Ah! Why, Ye Gods, Should Two And Two Make Four?

Remembrance And Reflection How Allied. What Thin Partitions Divides Sense From Thought.

O Peace! How Many Wars Were Waged In Thy Name.

What Bosom Beast Not In His Country's Cause?

What Dire Offence From Am'rous Causes Springs, What Mighty Contests Rise From Trivial Things.

Fine Sense And Exalted Sense Are Not Half So Useful As Common Sense.

Age And Want Sit Smiling At The Gate.

For What I Have Publish'd, I Can Only Hope To Be Pardon'd; But For What I Have Burned, I Deserve To Be Prais'd.

There Is No Study That Is Not Capable Of Delighting Us After A Little Application To It.

Is That A Birthday? 'tis, Alas! Too Clear; 'tis But The Funeral Of The Former Year.

A Saint In Crape Is Twice A Saint In Lawn.

Search Then The Ruling Passion: This Clue, Once Found, Unravels All The Rest.

Aurora Now, Fair Daughter Of The Dawn, Sprinkled With Rosy Light The Dewy Lawn.

The Cabinets Of The Sick And The Closets Of The Dead Have Been Ransacked To Publish Private Letters And Divulge To All Mankind The Most Secret Sentiments Of Friendship.

Avoid Extremes; And Shun The Fault Of Such Who Still Are Pleas'd Too Little Or Too Much.

Order Is Heaven's First Law; And This Confess, Some Are And Must Be Greater Than The Rest.

Why Has Not Man A Microscopic Eye? For This Plain Reason, Man Is Not A Fly. Say What The Use, Were Finer Optics Giv'n, T' Inspect A Mite, Not Comprehend The Heav'n.

And You, My Critics! In The Chequer'd Shade, Admire New Light Thro' Holes Yourselves Have Made.

Horses (thou Say'st) And Asses Men May Try, And Ring Suspected Vessels Ere They Buy; But Wives, A Random Choice, Untried They Take; They Dream In Courtship, But In Wedlock Wake; Then, Nor Till Then, The Veil's Removed Away, And All The Woman Glares In Open Day.

Education Forms The Common Mind. Just As The Twig Is Bent, The Tree's Inclined.

Teach Me To Feel Another's Woe, To Hide The Fault I See, That Mercy I To Others Show, That Mercy Show To Me.

The Enormous Faith Of Many Made For One.

It Often Happens That Those Are The Best People Whose Characters Have Been Most Injured By Slanderers: As We Usually Find That To Be The Sweetest Fruit Which The Birds Have Been Picking At.

Honor And Shame From No Condition Rise. Act Well Your Part: There All The Honor Lies.

Yes, I Am Proud; I Must Be Proud To See Men Not Afraid Of God, Afraid Of Me.

Never Find Fault With The Absent.

See Plastic Nature Working To This End, The Single Atoms Each To Other Tend, Attract, Attracted To, The Next In Place Form'd And Impell'd Its Neighbor To Embrace.

At Present We Can Only Reason Of The Divine Justice From What We Know Of Justice In Man. When We Are In Other Scenes, We May Have Truer And Nobler Ideas Of It; But While We Are In This Life, We Can Only Speak From The Volume That Is Laid Open Before Us.

No Writing Is Good That Does Not Tend To Better Mankind In Some Way Or Other.

The Light Of Heaven Restore; Give Me To See, And Ajax Asks No More.

To The Elysian Shades Dismiss My Soul, Where No Carnation Fades.

Oh, Sons Of Earth! Attempt Ye Still To Rise. By Mountains Pil'd On Mountains To The Skies? Heav'n Still With Laughter The Vain Toil Surveys, And Buries Madmen In The Heaps They Raise.

A Perfect Judge Will Read Each Work Of Wit With The Same Spirit That Its Author Writ: Survey The Whole, Nor Seek Slight Faults To Find Where Nature Moves, And Rapture Warms The Mind.

The Mouse That Always Trusts To One Poor Hole Can Never Be A Mouse Of Any Soul.

Histories Are More Full Of Examples Of The Fidelity Of Dogs Than Of Friends.

Nothing Can Be More Shocking And Horrid Than One Of Our Kitchens Sprinkled With Blood, And Abounding With The Cries Of Expiring Victims Or With The Limbs Of Dead Animals Scattered Or Hung Up Here And There.

Nor Public Flame, Nor Private, Dares To Shine; Nor Human Spark Is Left, Nor Glimpse Divine! Lo! Thy Dread Empire, Chaos! Is Restored; Light Dies Before Thy Uncreating Word: Thy Hand, Great Anarch! Lets The Curtain Fall; And Universal Darkness Buries All.

True Wit Is Nature To Advantage Dress'd What Oft Was Thought, But Ne'er So Well Express'd; Something Whose Truth Convinced At Sight We Find, That Gives Us Back The Image Of Our Mind. As Shades More Sweetly Recommend The Light, So Modest Plainness Sets Off Sprightly Wit.

A Pear-tree Planted Nigh: 'twas Charg'd With Fruit That Made A Goodly Show, And Hung With Dangling Pears Was Every Bough.

Here Hills And Vales, The Woodland And The Plain Here Earth And Water Seem To Strive Again, Not Chaos-like Together Crushed And Bruised, But, As The World, Harmoniously Confused: Where Order In Variety We See, And Where, Though All Things Differ, All Agree.

Blessed Is The Man Who Expects Nothing, For He Shall Never Be Disappointed Was The Ninth Beatitude.

The Ruling Passion, Be It What It Will. The Ruling Passion Conquers Reason Still.

She Who Ne'er Answers Till A Husband Cools, Or, If She Rules Him, Never Shows She Rules; Charms By Accepting, By Submitting, Sways, Yet Has Her Humor Most, When She Obeys.

See How The World Its Veterans Rewards! A Youth Of Frolics, An Old Age Of Cards; Fair To No Purpose, Artful To No End, Young Without Lovers, Old Without A Friend; A Fop Their Passion, But Their Prize A Sot; Alive Ridiculous, And Dead Forgot.

For I, Who Hold Sage Homer's Rule The Best, Welcome The Coming, Speed The Going Guest.

Fear Not The Anger Of The Wise To Raise; Those Best Can Bear Reproof Who Merit Praise.

Pride, Where Wit Fails, Steps In To Our Defence, And Fills Up All The Mighty Void Of Sense.

Music The Fiercest Grief Can Charm, And Fate's Severest Rage Disarm. Music Can Soften Pain To Ease, And Make Despair And Madness Please; Our Joys Below It Can Improve, And Antedate The Bliss Above.

And Soften'd Sounds Along The Waters Die: Smooth Flow The Waves, The Zephyrs Gently Play.

But Thousands Die Without Or This Or That, Die, And Endow A College Or A Cat.

Soft Is The Strain When Zephyr Gently Blows, And The Smooth Stream In Smoother Numbers Flows; But When Loud Surges Lash The Sounding Shore, The Hoarse Rough Verse Should Like The Torrent Roar. When Ajax Strives Some Rock's Vast Weight To Throw, The Line Too Labours, And The Words Move Slow: Not So When Swift Camilla Scours The Plain, Flies O'er Th' Unbending Corn, And Skims Along The Main.

A Fly, A Grape-stone, Or A Hair Can Kill.

The Learned Is Happy, Nature To Explore; The Fool Is Happy, That He Knows No More.

He Knows To Live Who Keeps The Middle State, And Neither Leans On This Side Nor On That.

Then Marble, Soften'd Into Life, Grew Warm.

Plays Round The Head, But Comes Not To The Heart. One Self-approving Hour Whole Years Outweighs Of Stupid Starers And Of Loud Huzzas; And More True Joy Marcellus Exil'd Feels Than Cæsar With A Senate At His Heels. In Parts Superior What Advantage Lies? Tell (for You Can) What Is It To Be Wise? 't Is But To Know How Little Can Be Known; To See All Others' Faults, And Feel Our Own.

Of All The Causes Which Conspire To Blind Man's Erring Judgement, And Misguide The Mind, What The Weak Head With Strongest Bias Rules, Is Pride, The Never-failing Vice Of Fools.

Our Plenteous Streams A Various Race Supply, The Bright-eyed Perch With Fins Of Tyrian Dye, The Silver Eel, In Shining Volumes Roll'd, The Yellow Carp, In Scales Bedropp'd With Gold, Swift Trouts, Diversified With Crimson Stains, And Pikes, The Tyrants Of The Wat'ry Plains.

For Forms Of Faith Let Graceless Zealots Fight; His Can't Be Wrong Whose Life Is In The Right.

Behold The Child, By Nature's Kindly Law Pleased With A Rattle, Tickled With A Straw.

These Riches Are Possess'd, But Not Enjoy'd!

I Think A Good Deal May Be Said To Extenuate The Fault Of Bad Poets. What We Call A Genius, Is Hard To Be Distinguish'd By A Man Himself, From A Strong Inclination: And If His Genius Be Ever So Great, He Can Not At First Discover It Any Other Way, Than By Giving Way To That Prevalent Propensity Which Renders Him The More Liable To Be Mistaken.

The Search Of Our Future Being Is But A Needless, Anxious, And Haste To Be Knowing, Sooner Than We Can, What, Without All This Solicitude, We Shall Know A Little Later.

Offend Her, And She Knows Not To Forgive; Oblige Her, And She'll Hate You While You Live.

When Rumours Increase, And When There Is An Abundance Of Noise And Clamour, Believe The Second Report.

If A Man's Character Is To Be Abused There's Nobody Like A Relative To Do The Business.

Do You Find Yourself Making Excuses When You Do Not Perform? Shed The Excuses And Face Reality. Excuses Are The Loser's Way Out. They Will Mar Your Credibility And Stunt Your Personal Growth.

Finding Yourself

There Still Remains To Mortify A Wit The Many-headed Monster Of The Pit.

Nor Fame I Slight, Nor For Her Favors Call; She Comes Unlooked For, If She Comes At All .

The Good Must Merit God's Peculiar Care; But Who But God Can Tell Us Who They Are?

Every Professional Was Once An Amateur.

By Music Minds An Equal Temper Know, Nor Swell Too High, Nor Sink Too Low. . . . . Warriors She Fires With Animated Sounds. Pours Balm Into The Bleeding Lover's Wounds.

I Never Knew Any Man In My Life Who Could Not Bear Another's Misfortunes Perfectly Like A Christian.

Vices And Virtues Are Of A Strange Nature, For The More We Have, The Fewer We Think We Have.

Fool, 'tis In Vain From Wit To Wit To Roam: Know, Sense, Like Charity, Begins At Home.

I Believe No One Qualification Is So Likely To Make A Good Writer, As The Power Of Rejecting His Own Thoughts.

No Creature Smarts So Little As A Fool.

A Perfect Judge Will Read Each Word Of Wit With The Same Spirit That Its Author Writ.

Good Sense, Which Only Is The Gift Of Heaven, And Though No Science, Fairly Worth The Seven.

Fondly We Think We Honor Merit Then, When We But Praise Ourselves In Other Men.

On Her White Breast A Sparkling Cross She Wore, Which Jews Might Kiss And Infidels Adore.

Love, Free As Air, At Sight Of Human Ties, Spreads His Light Wings, And In A Moment Flies.

What Nothing Earthly Gives, Or Can Destroy, The Soul's Calm Sunshine, And The Heart-felt Joy, Is Virtue's Prize.

Simplicity Is The Mean Between Ostentation And Rusticity.

When I Die, I Should Be Ashamed To Leave Enough To Build Me A Monument If There Were A Wanting Friend Above Ground. I Would Enjoy The Pleasure Of What I Give By Giving It Alive And Seeing Another Enjoy It.

Poets Heap Virtues, Painters Gems, At Will, And Show Their Zeal, And Hide Their Want Of Skill.

Giving Advice Is Many Times Only The Privilege Of Saying A Foolish Thing One's Self, Under The Pretense Of Hindering Another From Doing One.

When To Mischief Mortals Bend Their Will, How Soon They Find It Instruments Of Ill.

That, Chang'd Thro' All And Yet In All The Same, Great In The Earth As In Th' Ætherial Frame, Warms In The Sun, Refreshes In The Breeze, Glows In The Stars, And Blossoms In The Trees... Breathes In Our Soul, Informs Our Mortal Part... Submit - In This, Or Any Other Sphere, Secure To Be As Blest As Thou Canst Bear. All Nature Is But Art, Unknown To Thee; All Chance, Direction Which Thou Canst Not See; All Discord, Harmony Not Understood... All Partial Evil, Universal Good.

And Make Each Day A Critic On The Last.

A Gen'rous Heart Repairs A Sland'rous Tongue.

In The Nice Bee, What Sense So Subtly True From Pois'nous Herbs Extracts The Healing Dew?

Heav'n From All Creatures Hides The Book Of Fate, All But The Page Prescribed, Their Present State: From Brutes What Men, From Men What Spirits Know: Or Who Could Suffer Being Here Below?

The Bookful Blockhead Ignorantly Read, With Loads Of Learned Lumber In His Head, With His Own Tongue Still Edifies His Ears, And Always List'ning To Himself Appears. All Books He Reads, And All He Reads Assails.

The Soul's Calm Sunshine, And The Heartfelt Joy.

Hope Springs Eternal In The Human Breast; Man Never Is, But Always To Be Blest. The Soul, Uneasy, And Confin'd From Home, Rest And Expatiates In A Life To Come. Lo, The Poor Indian! Whose Untutor'd Mind Sees God In Clouds, Or Hears Him In The Wind; His Soul Proud Science Never Taught To Stray Far As The Solar Walk Or Milky Way; Yet Simple Nature To His Hope Has Giv'n, Behind The Cloud-topp'd Hill, An Humbler Heav'n.

In Men, We Various Ruling Passions Find; In Women, Two Almost Divide The Kind Those, Only Fixed, They First Or Last Obey, The Love Of Pleasure, And The Love Of Sway.

Love Seldom Haunts The Breast Where Learning Lies, And Venus Sets Ere Mercury Can Rise.

To Err Is Human; To Forgive, Divine.

Poets Like Painters, Thus Unskilled To Trace The Naked Nature And The Living Grace, With Gold And Jewels Cover Ev'ry Part, And Hide With Ornaments Their Want Of Art. True Wit Is Nature To Advantage Dressed, What Oft Was Thought, But Ne'er So Well Expressed.

Others Import Yet Nobler Arts From France, Teach Kings To Fiddle, And Make Senates Dance.

Heav'n First Taught Letters For Some Wretch's Aid, Some Banish'd Lover, Or Some Captive Maid.

A Little Learning Is A Dangerous Thing.

Fools Rush In Where Angels Fear To Tread.

One Self-approving Hour Whole Years Outweighs.

Vast Chain Of Being! Which From God Began, Natures Ethereal, Human, Angel, Man, Beast, Bird, Fish, Insect, What No Eye Can See, No Glass Can Reach, From Infinite To Thee, From Thee To Nothing.

Light Quirks Of Music, Broken And Uneven,make The Soul Dance Upon A Jig To Heav'n.

Health Consists With Temperance Alone.

Sleep And Death, Two Twins Of Winged Race, Of Matchless Swiftness, But Of Silent Pace.

They Dream In Courtship, But In Wedlock Wake.

A Little Learning Is A Dangerous Thing; Drink Of It Deeply, Or Taste It Not, For Shallow Thoughts Intoxicate The Brain, And Drinking Deeply Sobers Us Again.

Whoever Thinks A Faultless Piece To See, Thinks What Ne'er Was, Nor Is, Nor E'er Shall Be.

Sure Of Their Qualities And Demanding Praise, More Go To Ruined Fortunes Than Are Raised.

No One Should Be Ashamed To Admit They Are Wrong, Which Is But Saying, In Other Words, That They Are Wiser Today Than They Were Yesterday.

Party-spirit At Best Is But The Madness Of Many For The Gain Of A Few.

To Be, Contents His Natural Desire, He Asks No Angel's Wing, No Seraph's Fire; But Thinks, Admitted To That Equal Sky, His Faithful Dog Shall Bear Him Company. Go Wiser Thou! And In Thy Scale Of Sense Weigh Thy Opinion Against Providence.

So Upright Quakers Please Both Man And God.

Those Move Easiest Who Have Learn'd To Dance.

To Buy Books As Some Do Who Make No Use Of Them, Only Because They Were Published By An Eminent Printer, Is Much As If A Man Should Buy Clothes That Did Not Fit Him, Only Because They Were Made By Some Famous Tailor.

The Finest Minds, Like The Finest Metals, Dissolve The Easiest.

And All Who Told It Added Something New, And All Who Heard It, Made Enlargements Too.

And More Than Echoes Talk Along The Walls.

But See How Oft Ambition's Aims Are Cross'd, And Chiefs Contend 'til All The Prize Is Lost!

A Generous Friendship No Cold Medium Knows, Burns With One Love, With One Resentment Glows.

We May See The Small Value God Has For Riches, By The People He Gives Them To.

A Person Who Is Too Nice An Observer Of The Business Of The Crowd, Like One Who Is Too Curious In Observing The Labor Of Bees, Will Often Be Stung For His Curiosity.

Nor Fame I Slight, Nor Her Favors Call.

If I Am Right, Thy Grace Impart Still In The Right To Stay; If I Am Wrong, O, Teach My Heart To Find That Better Way!

The Dull Flat Falsehood Serves For Policy, And In The Cunning, Truth's Itself A Lie.

Vice Is A Monster Of So Frightful Mien As To Be Hated Needs But To Be Seen; Yet Seen Too Oft, Familiar With Her Face, We First Endure, Then Pity, Then Embrace.

The Greatest Advantage I Know Of Being Thought A Wit By The World Is, That It Gives One The Greater Freedom Of Playing The Fool.

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