By different methods different men excel, but where is he who can do all things well?

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

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.

By different methods different men excel, but where is he who can do all things well?

Greatly his foes he dreads, but more his friends; He hurts me most who lavishly commends.

Little do such men know the toil, the pains, the daily, nightly racking of the brains, to range the thoughts, the matter to digest, to cull fit phrases, and reject the rest.

Nor waste their sweetness in the desert air.