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| If, presume not to God to scan; The proper study of Mankind is Man. Plac'd on this isthmus of a middle state, a being darkly wise, and rudely great. |
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| In lazy apathy let stoics boast Their virtue fixed: 'tis fixed as in a frost; Contracted all, retiring to the breast; But strength of mind is exercise, not rest |
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| In quibbles angel and archangel join,/ And God the Father turns a school divine. |
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| In words, as fashions, the same rule will hold, Alike fantastic if too new or old: Be not the first by whom the new are tried, Nor yet the last to lay the old aside |
| Fashion; Rules; Words |
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| Is there a parson, much bemused in beer,/ A maudlin poetess, a rhyming peer,/ A clerk foredoomed his father's soul to cross/ Who pens a stanza, when he should engross? |
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| Is there no bright reversion in the sky,/ For those who greatly think, or bravely die? |
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| It is with narrow-souled people as with narrow-necked bottles; the less they have in them, the more noise they make in pouring out |
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| It is with our judgments as with our watches: no two go just alike, yet each believes his own. |
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| Know then this truth (enough for man to know), - "Virtue alone is happiness below |
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| Know then thyself, presume not God to scan; The proper study of mankind is man |
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| Learn to live well, or fairly make your will; you played, and loved, and ate, and drunk your fill: walk sober off; before a sprightlier age comes tittering on, and shoves you from the stage: leave such to trifle with more grace and ease, whom Folly pleases, and whose Follies please. |
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| Led by my hand, he sauntered Europe round, And gathered every vice on Christian ground |
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| Let sinful bachelors their woes deplore, full well they merit all they feel, and more |
| Bachelors |
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| Like Cato, give his little senate laws, and sit attentive to his own applause. |
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| Like following life through creatures you dissect,/ You lose it in the moment you detect. |
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| Lo, the poor Indian! whose untutored mind Sees God in clouds, or hears him in the wind; His soul proud Science never taught to stray, Far as the solar walk or milky way |
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| Loud thunder to its bottom shook the bog,/ And the hoarse nation croaked, `God save King Log!' |
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| Love, free as air at sight of human ties, spreads his light wings, and in a moment flies |
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