Fame Can Never Make Us Lie Down

Heaven Gave To Woman The Peculiar Grace To Spin, To Weep, And Cully Human Race.

But To The World No Bugbear Is So Great, As Want Of Figure And A Small Estate.

Placed On This Isthmus Of A Middle State, A Being Darkly Wise And Rudely Great... He Hangs Between; In Doubt To Act Or Rest; In Doubt To Deem Himself A God, Or Beast; In Doubt His Mind Or Body To Prefer; Born To Die, And Reasoning But To Err.

Careless Of Censure, Nor Too Fond Of Fame, Still Pleased To Praise, Yet Not Afraid To Blame, Averse Alike To Flatter Or Offend, Not Free From Faults, Nor Yet Too Vain To Mend.

Never Elated While One Man's Oppress'd; Never Dejected While Another's Blessed.