The More Haste, Ever The Worst Speed.

Knaves Starve Not In The Land Of Fools.

When Satire Flies Abroad On Falsehood's Wing, Short Is Her Life, And Impotent Her Sting; But When To Truth Allied, The Wound She Gives Sinks Deep, And To Remotest Ages Lives.

Keep Up Appearances; There Lies The Test. The World Will Give Thee Credit For The Rest.

With Various Readings Stored His Empty Skull, Learn'd Without Sense, And Venerably Dull.

The Villager, Born Humbly And Bred Hard, Content His Wealth, And Poverty His Guard, In Action Simply Just, In Conscience Clear, By Guilt Untainted, Undisturb'd By Fear, His Means But Scanty, And His Wants But Few, Labor His Business, And His Pleasure Too, Enjoys More Comforts In A Single Hour Than Ages Give The Wretch Condemn'd To Power.