The worst men often give the best advice. BAILEY _Festus,_ Sc. _A Village Feast._ 'Twas good advice, and meant, my son, Be good.
Habit with him was all the test of truth, It must be right I've done it from my youth.
In general satire, every man perceives A slight attack, yet neither fears nor grieves.
Sacred to ridicule his whole life long, And the sad burden of some merry song. POPE: Satire i., Bk. ii., Line 76. But 't was a maxim he had often tried, That right was right, and there he would abide.
Books cannot always please, however good; Minds are not ever craving for their food.
Temp'rate in every place, abroad, at home. Thence will applause, and hence will profit come; And health from either he in time prepares For sickness, age, and their attendant cares.
To the house of a friend if you're pleased to retire, You must all things admit, you must all things admire; You must pay with observance the price of your treat, You must eat what is praised, and must praise what you eat
Better to love amiss than nothing to have loved
Feed the musician, and he's out of tune
Be there a will, and wisdom finds a way
To show the world what long experience gains, requires not courage, though it calls for pains; but at life's outset to inform mankind is a bold effort of a valiant mind.
And took for truth the test of ridicule.
In her experience all her friends relied, Heaven was her help and nature was her guide.
With eye upraised his master's looks to scan, The joy, the solace, and the aid of man; The rich man's guardian, and the poor man's friend, The only creature faithful to the end.
Time has touched me gently in his race, And left no odious furrows in my face.