Knaves Starve Not In The Land Of

Fool Beckons Fool, And Dunce Awakens Dunce.

What It 't To Us, If Taxes Rise Or Fall, Thanks To Our Fortune, We Pay None At All. Let Muckworms Who In Dirty Acres Deal, Lament Those Hardships Which We Cannot Feel, His Grace Who Smarts, May Bellow If He Please, But Must I Bellow Too, Who Sit At Ease? By Custom Safe, The Poets' Numbers Flow, Free As The Light And Air Some Years Ago. No Statesman E'er Will Find It Worth His Pains To Tax Our Labours, And Excise Our Brains. Burthens Like These With Earthly Buildings Bear, No Tributes Laid On Castles In The Air.

Childhood, Who Like An April Morn Appears, Sunshine And Rain, Hopes Clouded O'er With Fears.

Keep Up Appearances; There Lies The Test. The World Will Give Thee Credit For The Rest.

By Different Methods Different Men Excel, But Where Is He Who Can Do All Things Well?