Rogues In Rags Are Kept In Countenance

Some Praise At Morning What They Blame At Night, But Always Think The Last Opinion Right.

Homer Excels All The Inventors Of Other Arts In This: That He Has Swallowed Up The Honor Of Those Who Succeeded Him.

Where Grows?--where Grows It Not? If Vain Our Toil, We Ought To Blame The Culture, Not The Soil.

Worth Makes The Man, And Want Of It The Fellow; The Rest Is All But Leather And Prunello.

Absent Or Dead, Still Let A Friend Be Dear.