Search then the ruling passion: This clue, once found, unravels all the rest.

There goes a saying, and 'twas shrewdly said, ''Old fish at table, but young flesh in bed.

Whoe'er he be That tells my faults, I hate him mortally.

I lisp'd in numbers, for the numbers came.

Hope travels through, nor quits us when we die.

Conceit is to nature what paint is to beauty; it is not only needless, but it impairs what it would improve.

Religion blushing, veils her sacred fires, And unawares Morality expires.