Who often, but without success, have prayed for apt Alliteration's artful aid.
Ourselves are to ourselves the cause of ill.
To copy beauty forfeits all pretense to fame; to copy faults is want of sense
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.
Men the most infamous are fond of fame, And those who fear not guilt yet start at shame.