All Seems Infected That Th'

Heav'n From All Creatures Hides The Book Of Fate, All But The Page Prescribed, Their Present State: From Brutes What Men, From Men What Spirits Know: Or Who Could Suffer Being Here Below?

Others Import Yet Nobler Arts From France, Teach Kings To Fiddle, And Make Senates Dance.

Fair Tresses Man's Imperial Race Ensnare; And Beauty Draws Us With A Single Hair.

Never Elated While One Man's Oppress'd; Never Dejected While Another's Blessed.

Search Then The Ruling Passion; There Alone, The Wild Are Constant, And The Cunning Known; The Fool Consistent, And The False Sincere; Priests, Princes, Women, No Dissemblers Here.