Fool Beckons Fool, And Dunce Awakens Dunce.

With Curious Art The Brain, Too Finely Wrought, Preys On Herself, And Is Destroyed By Thought.

Though Folly, Robed In Purple, Shines, Though Vice Exhausts Peruvian Mines, Yet Shall They Tremble And Turn Pale When Satire Wields Her Mighty Flail.

England, A Happy Land We Know, Where Follies Naturally Grow, Where Without Culture They Arise, And Tow'r Above The Common Size.

Gipsies, Who Every Ill Can Cure, Except The Ill Of Being Poor Who Charms 'gainst Love And Agues Sell, Who Can In Hen-roost Set A Spell, Prepar'd By Arts, To Them Best Known To Catch All Feet Except Their Own, Who, As To Fortune, Can Unlock It, As Easily As Pick A Pocket.

Who Shall Dispute What The Reviewers Say? Their Word's Sufficient; And To Ask A Reason, In Such A State As Theirs, Is Downright Treason.