What Will A Child Learn Sooner Than

The Worst Of Madmen Is A Saint Run Mad.

What Woeful Stuff This Madrigal Would Be, In Some Starved Hackney Sonneteer, Or Me! But Let A Lord Once Own The Happy Lines, How The Wit Brightens! How The Style Refines!

Trust Not Yourself, But Your Defects To Know, Make Use Of Every Friend And Every Foe.

Grave Authors Say, And Witty Poets Sing, That Honest Wedlock Is A Glorious Thing.

By Music Minds An Equal Temper Know, Nor Swell Too High, Nor Sink Too Low. . . . . Warriors She Fires With Animated Sounds. Pours Balm Into The Bleeding Lover's Wounds.