Most Of Those Evils We Poor Mortals

England, A Happy Land We Know, Where Follies Naturally Grow, Where Without Culture They Arise, And Tow'r Above The Common Size.

What Is This World?--a Term Which Men Have Got, To Signify Not One In Ten Knows What; A Term, Which With No More Precision Passes To Point Out Herds Of Men Than Herds Of Asses; In Common Use No More It Means, We Find, Than Many Fools In Same Opinions Joined.

No Tribute Is Laid On Castles In The Air.

Who All In Raptures Their Own Works Rehearse, And Drawl Out Measur'd Prose, Which They Call Verse.

Those Who Raise Envy Will Easily Incur Censure.