Merit not always—Fortune feeds the bard,
And, as the whim inclines, bestows reward;
None without wit, nor with it numbers gain;
To please is hard, but none shall please in vain.
As a coy mistress is the humour'd town,
Loth every lover with success to crown;
He who would win must every effort try,
Sail in the mode, and to the fashion fly;
Must gay or grave to every humour dress,
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