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admire atque Author bear beauty better Character Court divine Epiftle equal ev'n ev'ry eyes fame father fatire fhall fome fool force foul ftill fuch fure give Gold grace grave half head hear heart himſelf honour Horace hurt imitation juft keep King Lady laft land laugh Laws learned live look Lord mean merit mind moral muſt Nature never NOTES o'er once Original perfon pleaſe Poet poor praiſe proud quae Queen quid quod rich ridicule Satire ſhall ſhould tell thefe theſe thing thoſe thought thro tibi true Truth turn verfe verſe Vice Virtue whofe whole whoſe wife writ write
Page 28 - Bestia's from the throne. Born to no pride, inheriting no strife, Nor marrying discord in a noble wife, Stranger to civil and religious rage, The good man walk'd innoxious through his age. No courts he saw, no suits would ever try, Nor dar'd an oath, nor hazarded a lie.
Page 49 - Hear this, and tremble ! you who 'scape the laws. Yes, while I live, no rich or noble knave Shall walk the world, in credit, to his grave.
Page 232 - Seen him, uncumber'd with the Venal tribe, Smile without Art, and win without a Bribe. Would he oblige me ? let me only find, He does not think me what he thinks mankind.
Page 16 - Who but must laugh if such a man there be ? Who would not weep if Atticus were he?
Page 45 - Slander or poison dread from Delia's rage ; Hard words or hanging, if your judge be Page ; From furious Sappho scarce a milder fate, Px'd by her love, or libell'd by her hate.
Page 15 - And born to write, converse, and live with ease: Should such a man, too fond to rule alone, Bear, like the Turk, no brother near the throne...
Page 242 - Are what ten thousand envy and adore : All, all look up with reverential awe, At crimes that 'scape or triumph o'er the law ; While truth, worth, wisdom, daily they decry : Nothing is sacred now but villainy.
Page 8 - The truth once told (and wherefore should we lie?) The Queen of Midas slept, and so may I. You think this cruel ? take it for a rule, No creature smarts so little as a fool. Let peals of laughter, Codrus ! round thee break, 85 Thou unconcern'd canst hear the mighty crack: Pit, box, and gall'ry in convulsions hurl'd, Thou stand'st unshook amidst a bursting world. Who shames a Scribbler? break one cobweb thro...