A Beardless Cynic Is The Shame Of

Neither Prosperity Nor Empire Nor Heaven Can Be Worth Winning At The Price Of A Virulent Temper, Bloody Hands, An Anguished Spirit, And A Vain Hatred Of The Rest Of The World.

Vain Wisdom All, And False Philosophy.

This Is Servitude, To Serve The Unwise.

And The More I See Pleasures About Me, So Much More I Feel Torment Within Me.

Sport, That Wrinkled Care Derides, And Laughter Holding Both His Sides. Come And Trip It As Ye Go, On The Light Fantastic Toe.