Give Me Again My Hollow

I Find Myself Hoping A Total End Of All The Unhappy Divisions Of Mankind By Party-spirit, Which At Best Is But The Madness Of Many For The Gain Of A Few.

Poets Heap Virtues, Painters Gems, At Will, And Show Their Zeal, And Hide Their Want Of Skill.

Let Such Teach Others Who Themselves Excel, And Censure Freely Who Have Written Well.

All Looks Yellow To A Jaundiced Eye.

To Observations Which Ourselves We Make, We Grow More Partial For Th' Observer's Sake.