The Laughers Are A Majority.

Unblemish'd Let Me Live Or Die Unknown; Oh, Grant An Honest Fame, Or Grant Me None!

Fine Sense And Exalted Sense Are Not Half So Useful As Common Sense. There Are Forty Men Of Wit For One Man Of Sense; And He That Will Carry Nothing About Him But Gold, Will Be Every Day At A Loss For Want Of Readier Change.

A Gen'rous Heart Repairs A Sland'rous Tongue.

Tis All In Vain To Keep A Constant Pother About One Vice And Fall Into Another.

Nor Fame I Slight, Nor Her Favors Call.