Wit, Who Never Once Forgave

No Tribute Is Laid On Castles In The Air.

Genius Is Of No Country; Her Pure Ray Spreads All Abroad, As General As The Day.

This A Sacred Rule We Find Among The Nicest Of Mankind, (which Never Might Exception Brook From Hobbes Even Down To Bolingbroke,) To Doubt Of Facts, However True, Unless They Know The Causes Too.

To Copy Faults Is Want Of Sense.

Though Folly, Robed In Purple, Shines, Though Vice Exhausts Peruvian Mines, Yet Shall They Tremble And Turn Pale When Satire Wields Her Mighty Flail.