For Your Ignorance Is The Mother Of

Nothing To Build, And All Things To Destroy.

Satire Is A Kind Of Poetry In Which Human Vices Are Reprehended.

These Are The Effects Of Doting Age,--vain Doubts And Idle Cares And Over Caution.

The Bravest Men Are Subject Most To Chance.

Thou Spring'st A Leak Already In Thy Crown, A Flaw Is In Thy Ill-bak'd Vessel Found; 'tis Hollow, And Returns A Jarring Sound, Yet Thy Moist Clay Is Pliant To Command, Unwrought, And Easy To The Potter's Hand: Now Take The Mould; Now Bend Thy Mind To Feel The First Sharp Motions Of The Forming Wheel.