Alexander Pope

But when to mischief mortals bend their will, How soon they find fit instruments of ill!

And mistress of herself, though china fall.

Chaste to her husband, frank to all beside, A teeming mistress, but a barren bride.

Teach me to feel another's woe, To hide the fault I see; That mercy I to others show, That mercy show to me.

See skulking Truth to her old cavern fled, Mountains of Casuistry heap'd o'er her head! Philosophy, that lean'd on Heav'n before, Shrinks to her second cause, and is no more. Physic of Metaphysic begs defence, And Metaphysic calls for aid on Sense! See Mystery to Mathematics fly!

And hence one master-passion in the breast, Like Aaron's serpent, swallows up the rest.

Lulled in the countless chambers of the brain, our thoughts are linked by many a hidden chain; awake but one, and in, what myriads rise!

In men, we various ruling passions find; In women, two almost divide the kind Those, only fixed, they first or last obey, The love of pleasure, and the love of sway.

Men, some to business, some to pleasure take; But every woman is at heart a rake.

The hungry judges soon the sentence sign, And wretches hang that jurymen may dine.