Fame Then Was Cheap, And The First

He Who Proposes To Be An Author Should First Be A Student.

Pity Only On Fresh Objects Stays, But With The Tedious Sight Of Woes Decays.

The Soft Complaining Flute, In Dying Notes, Discovers The Woes Of Hopeless Lovers.

Mere Poets Are Sottish As Mere Drunkards Are, Who Live In A Continual Mist, Without Seeing Or Judging Anything Clearly. A Man Should Be Learned In Several Sciences, And Should Have A Reasonable, Philosophical And In Some Measure A Mathematical Head, To Be A Complete And Excellent Poet.

And After Hearing What Our Church Can Say, If Still Our Reason Runs Another Way, That Private Reason 'tis More Just To Curb, Than By Disputes The Public Peace Disturb; For Points Obscure Are Of Small Use To Learn, But Common Quiet Is Mankind's Concern.