Bear, Like The Turk, No

What Is Fame? A Fancied Life In Others' Breath.

Destroy All Creatures For Thy Sport Or Gust, Yet Cry, If Man's Unhappy, God's Unjust.

Virtue, I Grant You, Is An Empty Boast; But Shall The Dignity Of Vice Be Lost?

The Race By Vigour, Not By Vaunts, Is Won.

Cursed Be The Verse, How Well So E'er It Flow, That Tends To Make One Worthy Man My Foe.