Knaves Starve Not In The Land Of

Those Who Would Make Us Feel Must Feel Themselves.

Most Of Those Evils We Poor Mortals Know From Doctors And Imagination Flow.

There's A Strange Something, Which Without A Brain Fools Feel, And Which E'en Wise Men Can't Explain, Planted In Man, To Bind Him To That Earth, In Dearest Ties, From Whence He Drew His Birth.

To Copy Faults Is Want Of Sense.

Fool Beckons Fool, And Dunce Awakens Dunce.