’Tis not in Age! for who can hope to scan
Man’s latent Thoughts, oft hidden from the Man?
’Tis surely dangerous for the best below
A Brother’s Secrets like his own to know;
Thy failings, follies, weakness, all to learn
And half form’d wishes in their birth discern.
[Loves] not thy friend—ah! let me judge him wrong—
O’er Wine to sit—nay why that look?—too long?
Have I not seen the bright’ning Eye, the Cheek 220
With pleasure fever’d, paint the Judgment weak;