Blame where you must, be candid where you can, And be each critic the Good-natured Man.

I do not love a man who is zealous for nothing.

A man he was to all the country dear, And passing rich with forty pounds a year.

Like the tiger, that seldom desists from pursuing man after having once preyed upon human flesh, the reader who has once gratified his appetite with calumny makes ever after the most agreeable feast upon murdered reputations!

A flattering painter, who made it his care To draw men as they ought to be, not as they are.

Measures, not men, have always been my mark.

Why was this heart of mine formed with so much sensibility! Or why not my fortune adapted to its impulses! Tenderness without a capacity of relieving only makes the man who feels it more wretched than the object which sues for assistance.

Where wealth accumulates, men decay.

Elegy of the Death of a Mad Dog The dog, to gain some praivate ends, Went mad and bit the man.