Tis but a part we see, and not a whole.
Fair tresses man's imperial race ensnare; And beauty draws us with a single hair.
Virtuous and vicious every man must be, few in the extreme, but all in the degree.
Every woman is at heart a rake.
Seas roll to waft me, suns to light me rise; My footstool earth, my canopy the skies.
The dull flat falsehood serves for policy, and in the cunning, truth's itself a lie.