Though by whim, envy, or resentment led, they damn those authors whom they never read.
With that malignant envy which turns pale, And sickens, even if a friend prevail.
Those who raise envy will easily incur censure.
Satire, whilst envy and ill-humor sway The mind of man, must always make her way; Nor to a bosom, with discretion fraught, Is all her malice worth a single thought. The wise have not the will, nor fools the power, To stop her headstrong course; within the hour Left to herself, she dies; opposing strife Gives her fresh vigor, and prolongs her life.
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