Your scene precariously subsists too long, On French translation and Italian song. Dare to have sense yourselves; assert the stage; Be justly warm'd with your own native rage.

To wake the soul by tender strokes of art, To raise the genius, and to mend the heart; To make mankind, in conscious virtue bold, Live o'er each scene, and be what they behold-- For this the tragic Muse first trod the stage.

Order is heaven's first law.

The world forgetting, by the world forgot.

Genius creates, and taste preserves. Taste is the good sense of genius; without taste, genius is only sublime folly.

To be angry is to revenge the faults of others on ourselves.