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.
She who has never lov'd, has never liv'd.
Envy's a sharper spur than pay.
Praising all alike, is praising none.
Lest men suspect your tale untrue, Keep probability in view.
Music might tame and civilize wild beasts, but 'tis evident it never yet could tame and civilize musicians.