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

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

Know then thyself, presume not God to scan; The proper study of mankind is man.

Most authors steal their works, or buy.

Know then this truth, enough for man to know virtue alone is happiness below.

Soft is the strain when zephyr gently blows, And the smooth stream in smoother numbers flows; But when loud surges lash the sounding shore, The hoarse rough verse should like the torrent roar. When Ajax strives some rock's vast weight to throw, The line too labours, and the words move slow: Not so when swift Camilla scours the plain, Flies o'er th' unbending corn, and skims along the main.

Yes, I am proud; I must be proud to see Men not afraid of God, afraid of me.