Virtue she finds too painful an endeavour, content to dwell in decencies for ever.

Wit in conversation is only a readiness of thought and a facility of expression, or a quick conception and an easy delivery.

Nor public flame, nor private, dares to shine; Nor human spark is left, nor glimpse divine! Lo! thy dread empire, Chaos! is restored; Light dies before thy uncreating word: Thy hand, great Anarch! lets the curtain fall; And universal darkness buries all.

Old men, for the most part, are like old chronicles that give you dull but true accounts of times past, and are worth knowing only on that score.

True ease in writing comes from art, not chance, As those move easiest who have learned to dance.

Fear not the anger of the wise to raise; Those best can bear reproof who merit praise.

If I am right, Thy grace impart Still in the right to stay; If I am wrong, O, teach my heart To find that better way!