The proud will sooner lose than ask their way.

If you mean to profit, learn to praise.

With curious art the brain, too finely wrought, Preys on herself, and is destroyed by thought.

Who often, but without success, have prayed for apt Alliteration's artful aid.

When fiction rises pleasing to the eye, men will believe, because they love the lie; but truth herself, if clouded with a frown, must have some solemn proof to pass her down.

Who, with tame cowardice familiar grown, would hear my thoughts, but fear to speak their own.

On the four aces doom'd to roll.