Not Sharp Revenge, Nor Hell Itself Can

Damn'd Neuters, In Their Middle Way Of Steering, Are Neither Fish, Nor Flesh, Nor Good Red Herring.

Imagination In A Poet Is A Faculty So Wild And Lawless That, Like A High Ranging Spaniel, It Must Have Clogs Tied To It, Lest It Outrun The Judgment. The Great Easiness Of Blank Verse Renders The Poet Too Luxuriant. He Is Tempted To Say Many Things Which Might Better Be Omitted, Or, At Least Shut Up In Fewer Words.

To So Perverse A Sex All Grace Is Vain.

Love Works A Different Way In Different Minds, The Fool It Enlightens And The Wise It Blinds.

At Home The Hateful Names Of Parties Cease, And Factious Souls Are Wearied Into Peace.