Alexander Pope

To wake the soul by tender strokes of art,
To raise the genius, and to mend the heart;
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To wake the soul by tender strokes of art,
To raise the genius, and to mend the heart;
To make mankind, in conscious virtue bold,
Live o'er each scene, and be what they behold--
For this the tragic Muse first trod the stage.

Expression is the dress of thought, and still
Appears more decent as more suitable;
A vile conceit read more

Expression is the dress of thought, and still
Appears more decent as more suitable;
A vile conceit in pompous words express'd,
Is like a clown in regal purple dress'd.

The hog that ploughs not, not obeys thy call,
Lives on the labours of this lord of all.

The hog that ploughs not, not obeys thy call,
Lives on the labours of this lord of all.

'Tis thus the mercury of man is fix'd,
Strong grows the virtue with his nature mix'd.

'Tis thus the mercury of man is fix'd,
Strong grows the virtue with his nature mix'd.

All seems infected that the infected spy,
As all looks yellow to the jaundiced eye.

All seems infected that the infected spy,
As all looks yellow to the jaundiced eye.