The propriety of thoughts and words, which are the hidden beauties of a play, are but confusedly judged in the vehemence of action.
Uncertain whose the narrowest span,--the clown unread, or half-read gentleman.
Old as I am, for ladies' love unfit, The power of beauty I remember yet.
Men's virtues I have commended as freely as I have taxed their crimes.
But far more numerous was the herd of such, Who think too little, and who talk too much.
Of all the tyrannies on human kind the worst is that which persecutes the mind.