Fool, 'tis In Vain From Wit To

Expression Is The Dress Of Thought, And Still Appears More Decent As More Suitable; A Vile Conceit In Pompous Words Express'd, Is Like A Clown In Regal Purple Dress'd.

All Are But Parts Of One Stupendous Whole, Whose Body Nature Is, And God The Soul.

As Some To Church Repair, Not For The Doctrine, But The Music There.

Thou Wert My Guide, Philosopher, And Friend.

Pretty Conceptions, Fine Metaphors, Glittering Expressions, And Something Of A Neat Cast Of Verse Are Properly The Dress, Gems, Or Loose Ornaments Of Poetry.