Who, born for the universe, narrow'd his mind, And to party gave up what was meant for mankind; Though fraught with all learning, yet straining his throat To persuade Tommy Townshend to lend him a vote. Who too deep for his hearers still went on refining, And thought of convincing while they thought of dining: Though equal to all things, for all things unfit; Too nice for a statesman, too proud for a wit.

Our Garrick 's a salad; for in him we see Oil, vinegar, sugar, and saltness agree!

The folly of others is ever most ridiculous to those who are themselves most foolish.

The true use of speech is not so much to express our wants as to conceal them.

Good people all, with one accord, Lament for Madam Blaize, Who never wanted a good word From those who spoke her praise.

Fortune is ever seen accompanying industry.

If the soul be happily disposed, every thing becomes capable of affording entertainment, and distress will almost want a name.