When religion doth with virtue join, it makes a hero like an angel shine.
So must the writer, whose productions should Take with the vulgar, be of vulgar mould.
What use of oaths, of promise, or of test, where men regard no God but interest?
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.
Circle are praised, not that abound, In largeness, but the exactly round.
Poets that lasting marble seek, Must come in Latin or in Greek.