But Touch Me, And No Minister So

Every Man Has Just As Much Vanity As He Wants Understanding.

What So Pure, Which Envious Tongues Will Spare? Some Wicked Wits Have Libell'd All The Fair, With Matchless Impudence They Style A Wife, The Dear-bought Curse, And Lawful Plague Of Life; A Bosom Serpent, A Domestic Evil, A Night Invasion, And A Mid-day Devil; Let Not The Wise These Sland'rous Words Regard, But Curse The Bones Of Ev'ry Living Bard.

Hope Travels Through, Nor Quits Us When We Die.

Yes, I Am Proud; I Must Be Proud To See Men Not Afraid Of God, Afraid Of Me.

So Vast Is Art, So Narrow Human Wit.