Reputation is an idle and most false imposition; oft got without merit, and lost without deserving.

Reputation is an idle and most false imposition; oft got without merit, and lost without deserving.

Surely, sir,
There's in him stuff that puts him to these ends;
For, being not propped by read more

Surely, sir,
There's in him stuff that puts him to these ends;
For, being not propped by ancestry, whose grace
Chalks successors their way, nor called upon
For high feats done to th' crown, neither allied
To eminent assistants, but spiderlike
Out of his self-drawing web, 'a gives us note,
The force of his own merit makes his way,
A gift that heaven gives for him, which buys
A place next to the king.

View the whole scene, with critic judgment scan,
And then deny him merit if you can.
Where read more

View the whole scene, with critic judgment scan,
And then deny him merit if you can.
Where he falls short, 'tis Nature's fault alone
Where he succeeds, the merit's all his own.

The world more often rewards the appearances of merit than merit itself.

The world more often rewards the appearances of merit than merit itself.

There is merit without elevation, but there is no elevation
without some merit.
[Fr., Il y a du read more

There is merit without elevation, but there is no elevation
without some merit.
[Fr., Il y a du merite sans elevation mais il n'y a point
d'elevation sans quelque merite.]

The world rewards the appearance of merit oftener than merit
itself.
[Fr., Le monde recompense plus souvent les read more

The world rewards the appearance of merit oftener than merit
itself.
[Fr., Le monde recompense plus souvent les apparences de merite
que le merite meme.]

We start with gifts. Merit comes from what we make of them.

We start with gifts. Merit comes from what we make of them.

The same principle leads us to neglect a man of merit that
induces us to admire a fool.
read more

The same principle leads us to neglect a man of merit that
induces us to admire a fool.
[Fr., Du meme fonds dont on neglige un homme de merite l'on sait
encore admirer un sot.]

For who would bear the whips and scorns of time,
Th' oppressor's wrong, the proud man's contumely
read more

For who would bear the whips and scorns of time,
Th' oppressor's wrong, the proud man's contumely
The pangs of despised love, the law's delay,
The insolence of office, and the spurns
That patient merit of th' unworthy takes,
When he himself might his quietus make
With a bare bodkin?