The First Years Of Man Must Make

We May Take Fancy For A Companion, But Must Follow Reason As Our Guide.

An Age That Melts In Unperceiv'd Decay, And Glides In Modest Innocence Away.

The End Of Writing Is To Instruct; The End Of Poetry Is To Instruct By Pleasing.

Players, Sir! I Look On Them As No Better Than Creatures Set Upon Tables And Joint Stools To Make Faces And Produce Laughter, Like Dancing Dogs.

Affectation Naturally Counterfeits Those Excellences Which Are Placed At The Greatest Distance From Possibility Of Attainment, Because, Knowing Our Own Defects, We Eagerly Endeavor To Supply Them With Artificial Excellence.