Nor Fame I slight, nor her favors call.

Thus let me live, unseen, unknown, Thus unlamented let me die, Steal from the world, and not a stone Tell where I lie.

Avoid Extremes; and shun the fault of such Who still are pleas'd too little or too much.

Pride, where wit fails, steps in to our defence, and fills up all the mighty void of sense.

A fly, a grape-stone, or a hair can kill.

No Senses stronger than his brain can bear. Why has not Man a microscopic eye? For this plain reason, Man is not a Fly: What the advantage, if his finer eyes Study a Mite, not comprehend the Skies?... Or quick Effluvia darting thro' his brain, Die of a Rose, in Aromatic pain? If Nature thunder'd in his opening ears, And stunn'd him with the music of the Spheres... Who finds not Providence all-good and wise, Alike in what it gives, and what denies?

By flatterers besieged And so obliging that he ne'er obliged.