When Beauty Fires The Blood, How Love

God Never Made His Work For Man To Mend.

Government Itself At Length Must Fall To Nature's State, Where All Have Right To All.

Virtue Without Success Is A Fair Picture Shown By An Ill Light; But Lucky Men Are Favorites Of Heaven; All Own The Chief, When Fortune Owns The Cause.

Those Who Write Ill, And They Who Ne'er Durst Write, Turn Critics Out Of Mere Revenge And Spite.

Old Age Creeps On Us Ere We Think It Nigh.