Envy's a sharper spur than pay: No author ever spar'd a brother; Wits are gamecocks to one another.
When we risk no contradiction, It prompts the tongue to deal in fiction.
To friendship every burden's light.
Envy's a sharper spur than pay.
I hate the man who builds his name On ruins of another's fame. Thus prudes, by characters o'erthrown, Imagine that they raise their own. Thus Scribblers, covetous of praise, Think slander can transplant the bays.
Look round, the wrecks of play behold; Estates dismember'd, mortgaged, sold! Their owners now to jails confin'd, Show equal poverty of mind.