Curse on all laws but those which love has made.

Beauties in vain their pretty eyes may roll; charms strike the sight, but merit wins the soul.

All are but parts of one stupendous whole, Whose body Nature is, and God the soul.

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.

Cursed be the verse, how well so e'er it flow, That tends to make one worthy man my foe.

Men must be taught as if you taught them not, and things unknown proposed as things forgot.

Placed on this isthmus of a middle state.