Maxioms by Alexander Pope
Worth makes the man, and want of it the fellow;
The rest is all but leather and prunello.
Worth makes the man, and want of it the fellow;
The rest is all but leather and prunello.
To what base ends, and by what abject ways,
Are mortals urg'd through sacred lust of praise!
To what base ends, and by what abject ways,
Are mortals urg'd through sacred lust of praise!
He's armed without that's innocent within.
He's armed without that's innocent within.
As man, perhaps, the moment of his breath,
Receives the lurking principle of death,
The younger disease, read more
As man, perhaps, the moment of his breath,
Receives the lurking principle of death,
The younger disease, that must subdue at length,
Grows with his growth, and strengthens with his strength.
Not to go back is somewhat to advance, and men must walk, at least, before they dance.
Not to go back is somewhat to advance, and men must walk, at least, before they dance.
