"Laws are like cobwebs, which may catch small flies, but let wasps and hornets break through."
"For poetry, he's past his prime, He takes an hour to find a rhyme; His fire is out, his wit decayed, His fancy sunk, his muse a jade. I'd have him throw away his pen, But there's no talking to some men."
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Source: Matthew Prior, Jonathan Swift (1853). “Select poems of Prior and Swift [ed. by C. Bathurst].”, p.155
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