Monuments, Like Men, Submit To

Heaven From All Creatures Hides The Book Of Fate.

Heaven Forming Each On Other To Depend, A Master, Or A Servant, Or A Friend, Bids Each On Other For Assistance Call, Till One Man's Weakness Grows The Strength Of All.

He Best Can Paint Them Who Shall Feel Them Most.

Whether The Darken'd Room To Muse Invite, Or Whiten'd Wall Provoke The Skew'r To Write; In Durance, Exile, Bedlam, Or The Mint, Like Lee Or Budgel I Will Rhyme And Print.

A God Without Dominion, Providence, And Final Causes, Is Nothing Else But Fate And Nature.