There Is A Proud Modesty In Merit.

He Is A Perpetual Fountain Of Good Sense.

When Beauty Fires The Blood, How Love Exalts The Mind!

Let Those Find Fault Whose Wit's So Very Small, They've Need To Show That They Can Think At All; Errors, Like Straws, Upon The Surface Flow; He Who Would Search For Pearls, Must Dive Below. Fops May Have Leave To Level All They Can; As Pigmies Would Be Glad To Lop A Man. Half-wits Are Fleas; So Little And So Light, We Scarce Could Know They Live, But That They Bite.

With How Much Ease Believe We What We Wish!

My Love's A Noble Madness.