We By Art Unteach What Nature Taught.

There's A Proud Modesty In Merit; Averse From Asking, And Resolved To Pay Ten Times The Gifts It Asks.

Rich The Treasure, Sweet The Pleasure,- Sweet Is Pleasure After Pain.

The Scum That Rises Upmost, When The Nation Boils.

The Province Of The Soul Is Large Enough To Fill Up Every Cranny Of Your Time, And Leave You Much To Answer For If One Wretch Be Damned By Your Neglect.

The Fates But Only Spin The Coarser Clue; The Finest Of The Wool Is Left For You.