Nor In The Critic Let The Man

The Heart Resolves This Matter In A Trice, "men Only Feel The Smart, But Not The Vice.

But Touch Me, And No Minister So Sore. Whoe'er Offends, At Some Unlucky Time Slides Into Verse, And Hitches In A Rhyme, Sacred To Ridicule His Whole Life Long, And The Sad Burthen Of Some Merry Song.

Whoever Thinks A Faultless Piece To See, Thinks What Ne'er Was, Nor Is, Nor E'er Shall Be.

No Craving Void Left Aching In The Soul.

Sometimes Virtue Starves While Vice Is Fed.