Nay, fly to altars; there they'll talk you dead; For fools rush in where angels fear to tread.

Wine lets no lover unrewarded go.

The world is a thing we must of necessity either laugh at or be angry at; if we laugh at it, they say we are proud; if we are angry at it, they say we are ill-natured.

But thousands die without or this or that, Die, and endow a college or a cat.

Such labour'd nothings, in so strange a style, Amaze th' unlearn'd and make the learned smile.

Oh! be thou blest with all that Heaven can send, Long health, long youth, long pleasure-and a friend.

Fools rush in where angels fear to tread.