Alexander Pope,
An Epistle to the Right Honourable Allen…
(1733)
“ Mends Fortune's fault, and justifies her grace.Wealth in the gross is Death, but Life diffus'd;As Poyson heals, in just proportion us'd:In heaps, like Ambergrise, a stink it lies,But well dispers'd, is Incense to the skies. Who starves by Nobles, or with Nobles eats?The wretch that trusts them, and the rogue that cheats.Is there a Lord, who knows a chearful noonWithout a Fidler, Flatt'rer, or Buffoon? Whose Table, Wit, or modest Merit share,Un-elbow'd by a Gamester, Pimp, or Play'r?Who copies Yours or Oxford's better part,To ease th' oppress'd, and raise the sinking heart? ”
