Grown old in courts, thou art not surely one <br />Who keeps the rigid rules of ancient honour; <br />Well skill'd to soothe a foe with looks of kindness, <br />To sink the fatal precipice before him, <br />And then lament his fall with seeming friendship! <br />Open to all, true only to thyself, <br />Thou know'st the arts which blast with envious praise, <br />Which aggravate a fault with feign'd excuses, <br />And drive discountenanced virtue from the throne; <br />That leave the blame of rigour to the prince, <br />And of his every gift usurp the merit, <br />That hide in seeming zeal a wicked purpose, <br />And only build upon another's ruin.<br /><br />Samuel Johnson<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/translation-of-a-speech-of-aquileio-in-the-adriano-of-metastasio/
