Beauty draws us with a single hair.

Reason's whole pleasure, all the joys of sense, Lie in three words,-health, peace, and competence.

All looks yellow to the jaundiced eye. [and therefore the solution is to fix the jaundiced eye.]

But thinks, admitted to that equal sky, His faithful dog shall bear him company.

Who breaks a butterfly on a wheel?

What woeful stuff this madrigal would be, In some starved hackney sonneteer, or me! But let a lord once own the happy lines, How the wit brightens! how the style refines!

Fame, wealth, and honour! what are you to Love?