Society and the World

Let such teach others who themselves excel, And censure freely who have written well.

If with me you’d fondly stray. Over the hills and far away. 2

I hate the man who builds his name On ruins of another’s fame.

Whence is thy learning? Hath thy toil O’er books consumed the midnight oil?

A God all mercy is a God unjust.

The man that makes a character makes foes.

One to destroy, is murder by the law; And gibbets keep the lifted hand in awe; To murder thousands takes a specious name, War’s glorious art, and gives immortal fame.

One to destroy, is murder by the law; And gibbets keep the lifted hand in awe; To murder thousands takes a specious name, War’s glorious art, and gives immortal fame.

Some for renown, on scraps of learning dote, And think they grow immortal as they quote.

When vice prevails, and impious men bear sway, The post of honor is a private station. 2

When vice prevails, and impious men bear sway, The post of honor is a private station. 2

From hence, let fierce contending nations know What dire effects from civil discord flow.

From hence, let fierce contending nations know What dire effects from civil discord flow.

Curse on his virtues! they’ve undone his country.

What pity is it That we can die but once to serve our country!

My voice is still for war. Gods! can a Roman senate long debate Which of the two to choose, slavery or death?

The woman that deliberates is lost. 1

Hobbes clearly proves that every creature Lives in a state of war by nature.

Yet malice never was his aim; He lash’d the vice but spar’d the name. No individual could resent, Where thousands equally were meant. His satire points at no defect But what all mortals may correct; For he abhorr’d that senseless tribe Who call it humor when they gibe.

Better to hunt in fields, for health unbought, Than fee the doctor for a nauseous draught. The wise, for cure, on exercise depend; God never made his work for man to mend.

Lord of yourself, uncumber’d with a wife.

And, like another Helen, fir’d another Troy.

Three poets, in three distant ages born, Greece, Italy, and England did adorn. The first in loftiness of thought surpass’d; The next, in majesty; in both the last. The force of Nature could no further go. To make a third, she joined the former two.

T’ abhor the makers, and their laws approve, Is to hate traitors and the treason love.