If You Mean To Profit, Learn To

With Curious Art The Brain, Too Finely Wrought, Preys On Herself, And Is Destroyed By Thought.

He Hurts Me Most Who Lavishly Commends.

The Oak, When Living, Monarch Of The Wood; The English Oak, Which, Dead, Commands The Flood.

Who To Patch Up His Fame, Or Fill His Purse, Still Pilfers Wretched Plans, And Makes Them Worse; Like Gypsies, Lest The Stolen Brat Be Known, Defacing First, Then Claiming For His Own.

To Copy Beauty Forfeits All Pretense To Fame; To Copy Faults Is Want Of Sense