I Am Resolved To Grow Fat, And

Be Secret And Discreet; The Fairy Favors Are Lost When Not Concealed.

Present Joys Are More To Flesh And Blood Than A Dull Prospect Of A Distant Good.

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.

A Satirical Poet Is The Check Of The Laymen On Bad Priests.

Pity Melts The Mind To Love.