The world rewards the appearance of merit oftener than merit
itself.
[Fr., Le monde recompense plus souvent les read more

The world rewards the appearance of merit oftener than merit
itself.
[Fr., Le monde recompense plus souvent les apparences de merite
que le merite meme.]

The more merit, the less affection

The more merit, the less affection

The favor of princes does not preclude the existence of merit,
and yet does not prove that it exists.
read more

The favor of princes does not preclude the existence of merit,
and yet does not prove that it exists.
[Fr., La faveur des princes n'exclut pas le merite, et ne le
suppose pas aussi.]

There is a season for man's merit as well as for fruit.
[Fr., Le merite des hommes a sa read more

There is a season for man's merit as well as for fruit.
[Fr., Le merite des hommes a sa saison aussi bien que les
fruits.]

There is merit without elevation, but there is no elevation
without some merit.
[Fr., Il y a du read more

There is merit without elevation, but there is no elevation
without some merit.
[Fr., Il y a du merite sans elevation mais il n'y a point
d'elevation sans quelque merite.]

Charm strikes the sight, but merit wins the soul.

Charm strikes the sight, but merit wins the soul.

Merit is much more cheaply acknowledged than rewarded

Merit is much more cheaply acknowledged than rewarded

Surely, sir,
There's in him stuff that puts him to these ends;
For, being not propped by read more

Surely, sir,
There's in him stuff that puts him to these ends;
For, being not propped by ancestry, whose grace
Chalks successors their way, nor called upon
For high feats done to th' crown, neither allied
To eminent assistants, but spiderlike
Out of his self-drawing web, 'a gives us note,
The force of his own merit makes his way,
A gift that heaven gives for him, which buys
A place next to the king.

For who would bear the whips and scorns of time,
Th' oppressor's wrong, the proud man's contumely
read more

For who would bear the whips and scorns of time,
Th' oppressor's wrong, the proud man's contumely
The pangs of despised love, the law's delay,
The insolence of office, and the spurns
That patient merit of th' unworthy takes,
When he himself might his quietus make
With a bare bodkin?