Alexander Pope ( 10 of 261 )
'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.
Heav'n first taught letters for some wretch's aid,
Some banish'd lover, or some captive maid.
Heav'n first taught letters for some wretch's aid,
Some banish'd lover, or some captive maid.
In men, we various ruling passions find;
In women two almost divide the kind;
Those only fix'd, read more
In men, we various ruling passions find;
In women two almost divide the kind;
Those only fix'd, they first or last obey.
The love of pleasure, and the love of sway.
We are ashamed of everything that is real about us; ashamed of
ourselves, of our relatives, of our incomes, read more
We are ashamed of everything that is real about us; ashamed of
ourselves, of our relatives, of our incomes, of our accents, of
our opinions, of our experience, just as we are ashamed of our
naked skins.
At length corruption, like a general flood
(So long by watchful ministers withstood),
Shall deluge all; and read more
At length corruption, like a general flood
(So long by watchful ministers withstood),
Shall deluge all; and avarice, creeping on,
Spread like a low-born mist, and blot the sun.
The learn'd reflect on what before they knew.
The learn'd reflect on what before they knew.
Some positive persisting fops we know,
Who, if once wrong, will needs be always so;
But you read more
Some positive persisting fops we know,
Who, if once wrong, will needs be always so;
But you with pleasure own your errors past,
And make each day a critique on the last.
"Pray take them, Sir,--Enough's a Feast;
Eat some, and pocket up the rest."
"Pray take them, Sir,--Enough's a Feast;
Eat some, and pocket up the rest."
Oh her white breast a sparkling cross she wore,
Which Jews might kiss and Infidels adore.
Oh her white breast a sparkling cross she wore,
Which Jews might kiss and Infidels adore.
"An't it please your Honour," quoth the Peasant,
"This same Desset is not so pleasant:
Give me read more
"An't it please your Honour," quoth the Peasant,
"This same Desset is not so pleasant:
Give me again my hollow Tree,
A Crust of Bread, and Liberty."
