"Laugh then at any but at fools or foes; These you but anger, and you mend not those. Laugh at your friends, and if your friends are sore, So much the better, you may laugh the more."

"A patriot is a fool in ev'ry age."

"Give me again my hollow tree, A crust of bread, and liberty."

"Wit that can creep and pride that licks the dust."

"Eternal smiles his emptiness betray, As shallow streams run dimpling all the way."

"Yet let me flap this bug with gilded wings, This painted child of dirt, that stinks and stings; Whose buzz the witty and the fair annoys, Yet wit ne'er tastes, and beauty ne'er enjoys."

"Let Sporus tremble — "What? that thing of silk, Sporus, that mere white curd of ass's milk? Satire or sense, alas! can Sporus feel? Who breaks a butterfly upon a wheel?""

"Cursed be the verse, how well so e'er it flow, That tends to make one worthy man my foe."

"Oh let me live my own, and die so too (To live and die is all I have to do)! Maintain a poet's dignity and ease, And see what friends, and read what books I please."

""On wings of winds came flying all abroad"."

"Who but must laugh, if such a man there be? Who would not weep, if Atticus were he?"

"View him with scornful, yet with jealous eyes, And hate for arts that caused himself to rise; Damn with faint praise, assent with civil leer, And, without sneering, teach the rest to sneer; Willing to wound, and yet afraid to strike, Just hint a fault, and hesitate dislike; Alike reserved to blame or to commend, A tim'rous foe, and a suspicious friend; Dreading e'en fools, by flatterers besieged, And so obliging that he ne'er obliged; Like Cato, give his little Senate laws, And sit attentive to his own applause."

"Were there one whose fires True Genius kindles, and fair Fame inspires, Blessed with each talent, and each art to please, And born to write, converse, and live with ease; Should such a man, too fond to rule alone, Bear, like the Turk, no brother near the throne."

"Means not, but blunders round about a meaning; And he whose fustian 's so sublimely bad, It is not poetry, but prose run mad."

"Pretty! in amber to observe the forms Of hairs, or straws, or dirt, or grubs, or worms! The things, we know, are neither rich nor rare, But wonder how the devil they got there."

"This long disease, my life."

"As yet a child, nor yet a fool to fame, I lisp'd in numbers, for the numbers came."

"Destroy his fib, or sophistry — in vain! The creature's at his dirty work again."

"No creature smarts so little as a fool."

"Fired that the house rejects him, "'Sdeath! I 'll print it, And shame the fools.""

"Obliged by hunger and request of friends."

"Friend to my life, which did not you prolong, The world had wanted many an idle song."

"Is there a parson much bemused in beer, A maudlin poetess, a rhyming peer, A clerk foredoom'd his father's soul to cross, Who pens a stanza when he should engross?"

"E'en Sunday shines no Sabbath day to me."

"Fire in each eye, and papers in each hand, They rave, recite, and madden round the land."

"Shut, shut the door, good John! fatigued, I said; Tie up the knocker! say I'm sick, I'm dead."

"[P]erhaps the best specimen that has yet appeared of personal satire ludicrously pompous."

"Religion blushing veils her sacred fires, And unawares Morality expires. Nor public flame, nor private, dares to shine; Nor human spark is left, nor glimpse divine! Lo! thy dread empire Chaos! is restored: Light dies before thy uncreating word; Thy hand, great Anarch! lets the curtain fall, And universal darkness buries all."

"Philosophy, that lean'd on heaven before, Shrinks to her second cause, and is no more. Physic of Metaphysic begs defence, And Metaphysic calls for aid on Sense!"

"E'en Palinurus nodded at the helm."

"Stretch'd on the rack of a too easy chair, And heard thy everlasting yawn confess The pains and penalties of idleness."

"Judicious drank, and greatly daring din'd."

"Led by my hand, he sauntered Europe round, And gathered every vice on Christian ground."

"To happy convents, bosomed deep in vines, Where slumber abbots, purple as their wines."

"Stuff the head With all such reading as was never read: For thee explain a thing till all men doubt it, And write about it, Goddess, and about it."

"The Right Divine of Kings to govern wrong."

"How sweet an Ovid, Murray was our boast!"

"A wit with dunces, and a dunce with wits."

"To aid our cause, if Heav'n thou can'st not bend, Hell thou shalt move."

"Immortal Rich! how calm he sits at ease, Midst snows of paper, and fierce hail of pease; And proud his mistress' order to perform, Rides in the whirlwind and directs the storm."

"Silence, ye wolves! while Ralph to Cynthia howls, And makes night hideous; —answer him, ye owls!"

"All crowd, who foremost shall be damn'd to fame."

"Peeled, patched, and piebald, linsey-woolsey brothers, Grave mummers! sleeveless some, and shirtless others. That once was Britain."

"Till Peter's keys some christen'd Jove adorn, And Pan to Moses lends his pagan horn."

"Another, yet the same."

"But blind to former, as to future Fate, What mortal knows his pre-existent state?"