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All are but parts of one stupendous whole, Whose body Nature is, and God the soul.

All nature is but art unknown to thee.

An honest man's the noblest work of God.

And all who told it added something new, and all who heard it, made enlargements too.

And die of nothing but a rage to live.

And, after all, what is a lie? 'Tis but the truth in a masquerade.

At every word a reputation dies.

Be not the first by whom the new are tried, Nor yet the last to lay the old aside.

Beauties in vain their pretty eyes may roll; charms strike the sight, but merit wins the soul.

Behold the child, by Nature's kindly law pleased with a rattle, tickled with a straw.