Patience Is Sorrow's Salve.

With Various Readings Stored His Empty Skull, Learn'd Without Sense, And Venerably Dull.

No Tribute Is Laid On Castles In The Air.

By Different Methods Different Men Excel, But Where Is He Who Can Do All Things Well?

Tis Mighty Easy O'er A Glass Of Wine On Vain Refinements Vainly To Refine, To Laugh At Poverty In Plenty's Reign, To Boast Of Apathy When Out Of Pain, And In Each Sentence, Worthy Of The Schools, Varnish'd With Sophistry, To Deal Out Rules Most Fit For Practice, But For One Poor Fault That Into Practice They Can Ne'er Be Brought.

England, A Happy Land We Know, Where Follies Naturally Grow, Where Without Culture They Arise, And Tow'r Above The Common Size.