Henry Fielding

“ Would'st thou not view, with scornful wond'ring eye,
The poor, contented, starving herd stand by?
All to one beast a servile homage pay,
And boasting, think it honour to obey.
Who wonders that good-nature in so few,
Can anger, lust, or avarice subdue?
When the cheap gift of fame our tongues deny,
And risk our own, to poison with a lie. ”

“ Which flow from friendship, or a softer flame.
Pride may the friend to noblest efforts thrust,
Or savages grow gentle out of lust.
The meanest passion may the best appear,
And men may seem good-natur'd from their fear. ”

“ And wretches wanting bread deprives of air.
Must it not wond'rous seem to hearts like thine,
That God, to other animals benign,
Should unprovided man alone create,
And send him hither but to curse his fate! ”