Fools Admire, But Men Of Sense Approve.

What Riches Give Us Let Us Then Inquire: Meat, Fire, And Clothes. What More? Meat, Clothes, And Fire. Is This Too Little?

Wise Wretch! With Pleasures Too Refined To Please, With Too Much Spirit To Be E'er At Ease, With Too Much Quickness Ever To Be Taught, With Too Much Thinking To Have Common Thought: You Purchase Pain With All That Joy Can Give, And Die Of Nothing But A Rage To Live.

And All Who Told It Added Something New, And All Who Heard It, Made Enlargements Too.

I Am His Highness' Dog At Kew; Pray Tell Me, Sir, Whose Dog Are You?

Who Shall Decide When Doctors Disagree, And Soundest Casuists Doubt, Like You And Me?