Who often, but without success, have prayed for apt Alliteration's artful aid.
With curious art the brain, too finely wrought, Preys on herself, and is destroyed by thought.
It can't be Nature, for it is not sense.
The laws I love; the lawyers I suspect.
To copy faults is want of sense.
The danger chiefly lies in acting well; no crime's so great as daring to excel.