He Mouths A Sentence As

Who To Patch Up His Fame, Or Fill His Purse, Still Pilfers Wretched Plans, And Makes Them Worse; Like Gypsies, Lest The Stolen Brat Be Known, Defacing First, Then Claiming For His Own.

Those Who Would Make Us Feel Must Feel Themselves.

Though Folly, Robed In Purple, Shines, Though Vice Exhausts Peruvian Mines, Yet Shall They Tremble And Turn Pale When Satire Wields Her Mighty Flail.

When Fiction Rises Pleasing To The Eye, Men Will Believe, Because They Love The Lie; But Truth Herself, If Clouded With A Frown, Must Have Some Solemn Proof To Pass Her Down.

Great Use They Have, When In The Hands Of One Like Me, Who Understands, Who Understands The Time And Place, The Person, Manner, And The Grace, Which Fools Neglect; So That We Find, If All The Requisites Are Join'd, From Whence A Perfect Joke Must Spring, A Joke's A Very Serious Thing.