Do good by stealth, and blush to find it fame.

Let fortune do her worst, whatever she makes us lose, so long as she never makes us lose our honesty and our independence.

Dear fatal name! rest ever unreveal'd, Nor pass these lips in holy silence seal'd. Hide it, my heart, within that close disguise, Where mixed with Gods, his lov'd idea lies: O write it not, my hand - the name appears Already written - wash it out, my tears! In vain lost Eloisa weeps and prays, Her heart still dictates, and her hand obeyes.

But those who cannot write, and those who can, All rhyme, and scrawl, and scribble, to a man.

I never knew any man in my life who could not bear another's misfortunes perfectly like a Christian.

I was not born for courts and great affairs, but I pay my debts, believe and say my prayers.

Where London's column, pointing at the skies, Like a tall bully, lifts the head, and lies.