Die of a rose in aromatic pain.
Such labour'd nothings, in so strange a style, Amaze th' unlearn'd and make the learned smile.
No writing is good that does not tend to better mankind in some way or other.
The young disease, that must subdue at length, Grows with his growth, and strengthens with his strength.
The vulgar boil, the learned roast, an egg.
Did some more sober critics come abroad? If wrong, I smil'd; if right, I kiss'd the rod.