Force Works On Servile Natures, Not The

Whom Hatred Frights, Let Him Not Dream Of Sovereignty.

Nor For My Peace Will I Go Far, As Wanderers Do, That Still Do Roam, But Make My Strengths, Such As They Are, Here In My Bosom, And At Home.

How Fortune Piles Her Sports When She Begins To Practise Them!

Wine It Is The Milk Of Venus, And The Poet's Horse Accounted: Ply It And You All Are Mounted.

It Is A Note Of Upstart Greatness To Observe And Watch For These Poor Trifles, Which The Noble Mind Neglects And Scorns.