The Oxford Dictionary of Quotations Preface

No creature smarts so little as a fool.
Let peals of laughter, Codrus! round thee break,
Thou unconcerned canst hear the mighty crack.
Pit, box, and gall’ry in convulsions hurled,
Thou stand’st unshook amidst a bursting world.
‘An Epistle to Dr Arbuthnot’ (1735) l. 83.
Destroy his fib, or sophistry; in vain,
The creature’s at his dirty work again.
‘An Epistle to Dr Arbuthnot’ (1735) l. 91
As yet a child, nor yet a fool to fame,
I lisped in numbers, for the numbers came.
‘An Epistle to Dr Arbuthnot’ (1735) l. 127.
The Muse but served to ease some friend, not wife,
To help me through this long disease, my life.
‘An Epistle to Dr Arbuthnot’ (1735) l. 131.
Pretty! in amber to observe the forms
Of hairs, or straws, or dirt, or grubs, or worms;
The things, we know, are neither rich nor rare,
But wonder how the devil they got there?
‘An Epistle to Dr Arbuthnot’ (1735) l. 169
And he, whose fustian’s so sublimely bad,
It is not poetry, but prose run mad.
‘An Epistle to Dr Arbuthnot’ (1735) l. 187
Damn with faint praise, assent with civil leer,
And without sneering, teach the rest to sneer;
Willing to wound, and yet afraid to strike,
Just hint a fault, and hesitate dislike.
‘An Epistle to Dr Arbuthnot’ (1735) l. 201 (referring to Addison).
But still the great have kindness in reserve,
He helped to bury whom he helped to starve.
‘An Epistle to Dr Arbuthnot’ (1735) l. 247 (on a noble patron)
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?’
‘An Epistle to Dr Arbuthnot’ (1735) l. 305 (on Lord Hervey)
Yet let me flap this bug with gilded wings,
This painted child of dirt that stinks and stings.
‘An Epistle to Dr Arbuthnot’ (1735) l. 309 (on Lord Hervey)
Eternal smiles his emptiness betray,