But of the two, less dang'rous is th' offence
To tire our patience, than mislead our sense.—lines 3, 4.
In search of wit, these lose their common sense,
And then turn critics in their own defence.—l. 28, 29.
Pride, where wit fails, steps in to our defence,
And fills up all the mighty void of sense.—l. 209, 10.
Some by old words to fame have made pretence,
Ancients in phrase, mere moderns in their sense.—l. 324, 5.
'Tis not enough no harshness gives offence,
The sound must seem an echo to the sense.—l. 364, 5.
At ev'ry trifle scorn to take offence,
That always shows great pride, or little sense.—l. 386, 7.
Be silent always when you doubt your sense;
And speak, though sure, with seeming diffidence.—l. 566, 7.
Be niggards of advice on no pretence:
For the worst avarice is that of sense.—l. 578, 9.
Strain out the last dull droppings of their sense,
And rhyme with all the rage of impotence.—l. 608, 9.
Horace still charms with graceful negligence,
And without method talks us into sense.—l. 653, 4.