Eye Nature's Walks, Shoot Folly As It

The Learned Is Happy, Nature To Explore; The Fool Is Happy, That He Knows No More.

Whoever Thinks A Faultless Piece To See, Thinks What Ne'er Was, Nor Is, Nor E'er Shall Be, In Every Work Regard The Writer's End, Since None Can Compass More Than They Intend; And If The Means Be Just, The Conduct True, Applause, In Spite Of Trivial Faults, Is Due.

There Are Some Solitary Wretches Who Seem To Have Left The Rest Of Mankind, Only, As Eve Left Adam, To Meet The Devil In Private.

Grave Authors Say, And Witty Poets Sing, That Honest Wedlock Is A Glorious Thing.

Fine Sense And Exalted Sense Are Not Half So Useful As Common Sense.