Old Age Creeps On Us Ere We

They, Who Would Combat General Authority With Particular Opinion, Must First Establish Themselves A Reputation Of Understanding Better Than Other Men.

What I Have Left Is From My Native Spring; I've Still A Heart That Swells, In Scorn Of Fate, And Lifts Me To My Banks.

The Glorious Lamp Of Heaven, The Radiant Sun, Is Nature's Eye.

Bold Knaves Thrive Without One Grain Of Sense, But Good Men Starve For Want Of Impudence.

For Those Whom God To Ruin Has Design'd, He Fits For Fate, And First Destroys Their Mind.