With That Malignant Envy Which Turns Pale,

Who Shall Dispute What The Reviewers Say? Their Word's Sufficient; And To Ask A Reason, In Such A State As Theirs, Is Downright Treason.

This A Sacred Rule We Find Among The Nicest Of Mankind, (which Never Might Exception Brook From Hobbes Even Down To Bolingbroke,) To Doubt Of Facts, However True, Unless They Know The Causes Too.

To Copy Beauty Forfeits All Pretense To Fame; To Copy Faults Is Want Of Sense

What Is This World?--a Term Which Men Have Got, To Signify Not One In Ten Knows What; A Term, Which With No More Precision Passes To Point Out Herds Of Men Than Herds Of Asses; In Common Use No More It Means, We Find, Than Many Fools In Same Opinions Joined.

Enough Of Satire; In Less Harden'd Times Great Was Her Force, And Mighty Were Her Rhymes. I've Read Of Men, Beyond Man's Daring Brave, Who Yet Have Trembled At The Strokes She Gave; Whose Souls Have Felt More Terrible Alarms From Her One Line, Than From A World In Arms.