Mere poets are sottish as mere drunkards are, who live in a continual mist, without seeing or judging anything clearly. A man should be learned in several sciences, and should have a reasonable, philosophical and in some measure a mathematical head, to be a complete and excellent poet.
Restless at home, and ever prone to range.
Jealousy is the jaundice of the soul.
Or hast thou known the world so long in vain?
Ill habits gather unseen degrees, as brooks make rivers, rivers run to seas.
Beauty, like ice, our footing does betray; Who can tread sure on the smooth, slippery way: Pleased with the surface, we glide swiftly on, And see the dangers that we cannot shun.