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The press, the pulpit, and the stage, Conspire to censure and expose our age.

Wentworth Dillon, 4th Earl of Roscommon

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Wentworth Dillon, 4th Earl of Roscommon
Age: 48 †
Born: 1637
Born: January 1
Died: 1685
Died: January 18
Author
Poet
Presses
Press
Criticism
Stage
Age
Conspire
Censure
Pulpit
Expose

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Invention is not so much the result of labor as of judgment.
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Men still had faults, and men will have them still He that hath none, and lives as angels do, Must be an angel.
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The multitude is always wrong.
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Those things which now seem frivolous and slight, Will be of serious consequence to you, When they have made you once ridiculous.
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Abstruse and mystic thoughts you must express With painful care, but seeming easiness For truth shines brightest thro' the plainest dress.
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Words once spoken can never be recalled.
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The last loud trumpet's wondrous sound, Shall thro' the rending tombs rebound, And wake the nations under ground.
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Words are like leaves some wither every year, and every year a younger race succeed.
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The men, who labour and digest things most, Will be much apter to despond than boast For if your author be profoundly good, 'Twill cost you dear before he's understood.
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You must not think that a satiric style allows of scandalous and brutish words the better sort abhor scurrility.
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We weep and laugh, as we see others do.
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Praise Him, each savage furious beast That on His stores do daily feast And you tame slaves, of the laborious plough, Your weary knees to your Creator bow.
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Our heroes of the former days deserved and gained their never-fading bays.
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The first great work (a task performed by few) Is that yourself may to yourself be true.
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Tis I that call, remember Milo's end, Wedged in that timber which he strove to rend.
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Truth shines brightest thro' the plainest dress.
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Grief dejects and wrings the tortured soul.
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Choose an author as you would a friend.
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Beware what spirit rages in your breast for one inspired, ten thousand are possessed.
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Whatsoever contradicts my sense, I hate to see, and never can believe.
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