A fellow feeling makes us wondrous kind.
Praise undeserved, is satire in disguise.
How do we know that we have a right to kill creatures that we are so little above, as dogs, for our curiosity or even for some use to us?
Heaven from all creatures hides the book of Fate.
Absent or dead, still let a friend be dear.
From vulgar bounds with brave disorder part, And snatch a grace beyond the reach of art.