With various readings stored his empty skull, Learn'd without sense, and venerably dull.
To copy beauty forfeits all pretense to fame; to copy faults is want of sense
If you mean to profit, learn to praise.
Greatly his foes he dreads, but more his friends; He hurts me most who lavishly commends.
On the four aces doom'd to roll.
Though by whim, envy, or resentment led, they damn those authors whom they never read.