The fool of nature stood with stupid eyes And gaping mouth, that testified surprise.
So the false spider, when her nets are spread, deep ambushed in her silent den does lie.
Resolved to ruin or to rule the state.
Old age creeps on us ere we think it nigh.
Imagining is in itself the very height and life of poetry, which, by a kind of enthusiasm or extraordinary emotion of the soul, makes it seem to us that we behold those things which the poet paints.
Be secret and discreet; the fairy favors are lost when not concealed.