“The Wit of Cheats, the Courage of a Whore,Are what ten thousand envy and adore:All, all look up, with reverential Awe,At crimes that 'scape, or triumph o'er the Law:While Truth, Worth, Wisdom, daily they decry-`'Nothing is sacred now but Villainy'- Epilogue to the Satires, Dialogue I”

“Sure flattery never traveled so far as three thousand miles; it is now only for truth, which over takes all things, to reach you at this distance.”

“Next o'er his books his eyes began to roll,In pleasing memory of all he stole.”

“Let Sporus tremble — "What? that thing of silk, Sporus, that mere white curd of ass's milk?Satire or sense, alas! can Sporus feel?Who breaks a Butterfly upon a Wheel?"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,”

“Intrepid then, o'er seas and lands he flew:Europe he saw, and Europe saw him too.”

“True Wit is Nature to advantage dress'dWhat oft was thought, but ne'er so well express'd;Something whose truth convinced at sight we find,That gives us back the image of our mind.As shades more sweetly recommend the light,So modest plainness sets off sprightly wit.”

“So pleas'd at first the tow'ring Alps we try,Mount o'er the vales, and seem to tread the sky;Th'eternal snows appear already past,And the first clouds and mountains seem the last:But those attain'd, we tremble to surveyThe growing labours of the lengthen'd way;Th'increasing prospect tires our wand'ring eyes,Hills peep o'er hills, and Alps on Alps arise!”