Chapter 1645 of 1964 · 63 words · ~1 min read

XVI.

With much to excite, there's little to exalt; Nothing that speaks to all men and all times; A sort of varnish over every fault; A kind of common-place, even in their crimes; Factitious passions--Wit without much salt-- A want of that true nature which sublimes Whate'er it shows with Truth; a smooth monotony Of character, in those at least who have got any.