Who to patch up his fame, or fill his purse, Still pilfers wretched plans, and makes them worse; Like gypsies, lest the stolen brat be known, Defacing first, then claiming for his own.

Though by whim, envy, or resentment led, they damn those authors whom they never read.

Genius is of no country; her pure ray Spreads all abroad, as general as the day.

On the four aces doom'd to roll.

He mouths a sentence as curs mouth a bone.

Men the most infamous are fond of fame, And those who fear not guilt yet start at shame.

Genius is nothing more than inflamed enthusiasm.