Zeal, The Blind Conductor Of

The Wretched Have No Friends.

Her Wit Was More Than Man, Her Innocence A Child.

We Can Never Be Grieved For Their Miseries Who Are Thoroughly Wicked, And Have Thereby Justly Called Their Calamities On Themselves.

Set All Things In Their Own Peculiar Place, And Know That Order Is The Greatest Grace.

Criticism Is Now Become Mere Hangman's Work, And Meddles Only With The Faults Of Authors ; Nay, The Critic Is Disgusted Less With Their Absurdities Than Excellence ; And You Cannot Displease Him More Than In Leaving Him Little Room For His Malice.