Thou hast seen a farmer’s dog bark at a beggar,
  And the creature run from the cur:  There,
  There, thou might’st behold the great image of authority;
  A dog’s obeyed in office.
King Lear, Act iv. Sc. 6.  SHAKESPEARE.

  O, what authority and show of truth
  Can cunning sin cover itself withal!
Much Ado about Nothing, Act iv. Sc. 1.  SHAKESPEARE.

AUTHORSHIP.

  But words are things, and a small drop of ink,
  Falling, like dew, upon a thought, produces
  That which makes thousands, perhaps millions, think.
Don Juan, Canto III.  LORD BYRON.

  Habits of close attention, thinking heads,
  Become more rare as dissipation spreads,
  Till authors hear at length one general cry
  Tickle and entertain us, or we die!
Retirement.  W. COWPER.

  The unhappy man, who once has trailed a pen,
  Lives not to please himself, but other men;
  Is always drudging, wastes his life and blood,
  Yet only eats and drinks what you think good.
Prologue to Lee’s Caesar Borgia.  J. DRYDEN.

  Lest men suspect your tale untrue
  Keep probability in view. 
  The traveller leaping o’er those bounds,
  The credit of his book confounds.
The Painter who pleased Nobody and Everybody.  J. GAY.

  Immodest words admit of no defence. 
  For want of decency is want of sense.

* * * * *

  But foul descriptions are offensive still,
  Either for being like or being ill.
Essay on Translated Verse.  EARL OF BOSCOMMON.

  Shut, shut the door, good John! fatigued I said,
  Tie up the knocker, say I’m sick, I’m dead. 
  The Dog-star rages! nay, ’t is past a doubt,
  All Bedlam, or Parnassus, is let out: 
  Fire in each eye, and papers in each hand,
  They rave, recite, and madden round the land.
Epistle to Dr. Arbuthnot:  Prologue to the Satires.  A. POPE.

  Why did I write? what sin to me unknown
  Dipped me in ink,—­my parents’, or my own!
Epistle to Dr. Arbuthnot:  Prologue to the Satires.  A. POPE.

                              And so I penned
  It down, until at last it came to be. 
  For length and breadth, the highness which you see.
Pilgrim’s Progress:  Apology for his Book.  J. BUNYAN.

  None but an author knows an author’s cares,
  Or Fancy’s fondness for the child she bears.
The Progress of Error.  W. COWPER.

 Whether the charmer sinner it, or saint it,
 If folly grow romantic.  I must paint it. Moral Essays, Epistle II.  A. POPE.

  “You write with ease, to show your breeding,
   But easy writing’s curst hard reading.”
Olio’s Protest.  R.B.  SHERIDAN.