Let others hail the rising sun: <br/>I bow to that whose course is run
Corrupted freemen are the worst of slaves.
The boughs that bear most hang lowest.
Wonders will never cease.
Heaven sends us good meat, but the Devil sends cooks.
I've that within - for which there are no plasters.
You are indebted to you imagination for three-fourths of your importance.
A fellow-feeling makes one wondrous kind.
Here lies James Quinn. Deign, reader, to be taught, Whate'er thy strength of body, force of thought, In Nature's happiest mould however cast, To this complexion thou must come at last.
Prologues like compliments are loss of time; 'T is penning bows and making legs in rhyme.
Are these the choice dishes the Doctor has sent us? Is this the great poet whose works so content us? This Goldsmith's fine feast, who has written fine books? Heaven sends us good meat, but the Devil sends cooks?
Heart of oak are our ships, Heart of oak are our men; We always are ready.