Look round, the wrecks of play behold; Estates dismember'd, mortgaged, sold! Their owners now to jails confin'd, Show equal poverty of mind.
Fair is the kingcup that in meadow blows, Fair is the daisy that beside her grows.
The fly that sips treacle is lost in the sweets.
From kings to cobblers 'tis the same; Bad servants wound their masters' fame.
Sure men were born to lie, and women to believe them!
In beauty faults conspicuous grow; The smallest speck is seen on snow.