Go to the world, peruse the book of man, 85
And learn from thence thy own defects to scan;
Severely honest, break no plighted trust,
But coldly rest not here—be more than just;
Join to the rigours of the sires of Rome
The gentler manners of the private dome; 90
When Virtue weeps in agony of woe,
Teach from the heart the tender tear to flow;
If Pleasure’s soothing song thy soul entice,
Or all the gaudy pomp of splendid Vice,