Who All In Raptures Their Own Works

No Tribute Is Laid On Castles In The Air.

Those Who Would Make Us Feel Must Feel Themselves.

Quick-circulating Slanders Mirth Afford; And Reputation Bleeds In Every Word.

No Two On Earth In All Things Can Agree; All Have Some Darling Singularity; Women And Men, As Well As Girls And Boys, In Gewgaws Take Delight, And Sigh For Toys, Your Sceptres And Your Crowns, And Such Like Things, Are But A Better Kind Of Toys For Kings. In Things Indifferent Reason Bids Us Choose, Whether The Whim's A Monkey Or A Muse.

Little Do Such Men Know The Toil, The Pains, The Daily, Nightly Racking Of The Brains, To Range The Thoughts, The Matter To Digest, To Cull Fit Phrases, And Reject The Rest.