For praise too dearly lov'd, or warmly sought, Enfeebles all internal strength of thought; And the weak soul within itself unblest, Leans for all pleasure on another's breast.
Of praise a mere glutton, he swallow'd what came, And the puff a dunce, he mistook it for fame; Till his relish grown callous, almost to displease, Who pepper'd the highest was surest to please.