Sometimes virtue starves while vice is fed.
While pensive poets painful vigils keep, Sleepless themselves, to give their readers sleep.
I am his Highness' dog at Kew; Pray tell me, sir, whose dog are you?
Never was it given to mortal man - To lie so boldly as we women can.
Persons of genius, and those who are most capable of art, are always most fond of nature: as such are chiefly sensible, that all art consists in the imitation and study of nature.
Chiefs who no more in bloody fights engage, But wise through time, and narrative with age, In summer-days like grasshoppers rejoice - A bloodless race, that send a feeble voice.