Every Professional Was Once An

Nor Fame I Slight, Nor Her Favors Call.

Such Labour'd Nothings, In So Strange A Style, Amaze Th' Unlearn'd And Make The Learned Smile.

Heaven From All Creatures Hides The Book Of Fate.

'tis Not Enough Your Counsel Still Be True; Blunt Truths More Mischief Than Nice Falsehoods Do.

In Vain Sedate Reflections We Would Make When Half Our Knowledge We Must Snatch, Not Take.