Roused by the lash of his own stubborn tail our lion now will foreign foes assail.

Imagination in a poet is a faculty so wild and lawless that, like a high ranging spaniel, it must have clogs tied to it, lest it outrun the judgment. The great easiness of blank verse renders the poet too luxuriant. He is tempted to say many things which might better be omitted, or, at least shut up in fewer words.

Fame then was cheap, and the first comer sped; And they have kept it since by being dead.

Good Heaven, whose darling attribute we find is boundless grace, and mercy to mankind, abhors the cruel.

I never saw any good that came of telling truth.

Interest makes all seem reason that leads to it.

Raw in the fields the rude militia swarms, Mouth without hands; maintained at vast expense, In peace a charge, in war a weak defence.