Yet let me flap this bug with gilded wings, This p — Alexander Pope

Yet let me flap this bug with gilded wings, This painted child of dirt, that stinks and stings; Whose buzz the witty and the fair annoys, Yet wit ne’er tastes, and beauty ne’er enjoys.

Epistle to Dr. Arbuthnot. Prologue to Imitations of Horace, l. 309

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