Those who would make us feel must feel themselves.
England a fortune-telling host, As num'rous as the stars, could boast; Matrons, who toss the cup, and see The grounds of Fate in grounds of tea.
Men the most infamous are fond of fame, And those who fear not guilt yet start at shame.
Ourselves are to ourselves the cause of ill.
The best things carried to excess are wrong.
To copy beauty forfeits all pretense to fame; to copy faults is want of sense