To the Elysian shades dismiss my soul, where no carnation fades.
Never elated when someone's oppressed, never dejected when another one's blessed.
Ten censure wrong for one who writes amiss.
A king may be a tool, a thing of straw; but if he serves to frighten our enemies, and secure our property, it is well enough; a scarecrow is a thing of straw, but it protects the corn.
Is it, in heav'n, a crime to love too well?
The life of a wit is a warfare upon earth.