Tis true, 'tis certain; man, though dead, retains Part of himself; the immortal mind remains.
Genius creates, and taste preserves.
Whoever thinks a faultless piece to see, Thinks what ne'er was, nor is, nor e'er shall be, In every work regard the writer's end, Since none can compass more than they intend; And if the means be just, the conduct true, Applause, in spite of trivial faults, is due.
Know then this truth, enough for man to know virtue alone is happiness below.
Men, some to business, some to pleasure take; But every woman is at heart a rake.
There goes a saying, and 'twas shrewdly said, ''Old fish at table, but young flesh in bed.