John Gay

The rising blushes, which her cheek o'er-spread,
Are opening roses in the lily's bed.

The rising blushes, which her cheek o'er-spread,
Are opening roses in the lily's bed.

There is no dependence that can be sure but a dependence upon one's self

There is no dependence that can be sure but a dependence upon one's self

That Raven on yon left-hand oak
(Curse on his ill-betiding croak)
Bodes me no good.

That Raven on yon left-hand oak
(Curse on his ill-betiding croak)
Bodes me no good.

I hate the man who builds his name on the ruins of another's fame.

I hate the man who builds his name on the ruins of another's fame.

In other men we faults may spy,
And blame the mote that dims their eye;
Each little read more

In other men we faults may spy,
And blame the mote that dims their eye;
Each little speck and blemish find,
To our own stronger errors blind.