Our business in the field of fight, Is not to question, but to prove our might.
Religion blushing, veils her sacred fires, And unawares Morality expires.
You beat your Pate, and fancy Wit will come: Knock as you please, there's no body at home.
Beauties in vain their pretty eyes may roll; charms strike the sight, but merit wins the soul.
The zeal of fools offends at any time.
From the moment one sets up for an author, one must be treated as ceremoniously, that is as unfaithfully, "as a king's favorite or a king.