|Hoyt & Roberts, comps. Hoyts New Cyclopedia of Practical Quotations. 1922.|
|Why should we fear; and what? The laws?|
They all are armed in virtues cause;
And aiming at the self-same end,
Satire is always virtues friend.
ChurchillGhost. Bk. III. L. 943.
|Unless a love of virtue light the flame,|
Satire is, more than those he brands, to blame;
He hides behind a magisterial air
His own offences, and strips others bare.
CowperCharity. L. 490.
|Difficile est satiram non scribere.|
It is difficult not to write satire.
JuvenalSatires. I. 29.
| Men are more satirical from vanity than from malice.|
La RochefoucauldMaxims. No. 608.
|Satire should, like a polished razor keen,|
Wound with a touch thats scarcely felt or seen.
Thine is an oyster knife, that hacks and hews;
The rage but not the talent to abuse.
Lady Mary Wortley MontagueTo the Imitator of the First Satire of Horace. (Pope.)
|I wear my Pen as others do their Sword.|
To each affronting sot I meet, the word
Is Satisfaction: straight to thrusts I go,
And pointed satire runs him through and through.
John OldhamSatire upon a Printer. L. 36.
|Damn with faint praise, assent with civil leer,|
And without sneering, teach the rest to sneer;
Willing to wound, and yet afraid to strike,
Just hint a fault, and hesitate dislike;
Alike reservd to blame, or to commend,
A timrous foe, and a suspicious friend.
PopePrologue to Satires. L. 201.
|Satire or sense, alas! Can Sporus feel?|
Who breaks a butterfly upon a wheel?
PopePrologue to Satires. L. 307. (Sporus, Lord John Hervey.)
|There are, to whom my satire seems too bold;|
Scarce to wise Peter complaisant enough,
And something said of Chartres much too rough.
PopeSecond Book of Horace. Satire I. L. 2.
|Satires my weapon, but Im too discreet|
To run amuck and tilt at all I meet.
PopeSecond Book of Horace. Satire I. L. 71.
|It is a pretty mocking of the life.|
Timon of Athens. Act I. Sc. 1. L. 35.
| La satire ment sur les gens de lettres pendant leur vie, et léloge ment après leur mort.|
Satire lies about literary men while they live and eulogy lies about them when they die.
VoltaireLettre à Bordes. Jan. 10, 1769.