Stronger by weakness, wiser men become.

A narrow compass! and yet there Dwelt all that 's good, and all that 's fair; Give me but what this riband bound, Take all the rest the sun goes round.

Vexed sailors cursed the rain, for which poor shepherds prayed in vain.

Others may use the ocean as their road; Only the English make it their abode.

So must the writer, whose productions should Take with the vulgar, be of vulgar mould.

Tea does our fancy aid, Repress those vapours which the head invade And keeps that palace of the soul serene.

When religion doth with virtue join, it makes a hero like an angel shine.