Detested Sport, That Owes Its Pleasures To

Habits Are Soon Assumed; But When We Strive To Strip Them Off, 'tis Being Flayed Alive.

In A Fleshly Tomb, I Am Buried Above Ground.

Events Of All Sorts Creep Or Fly Exactly As God Pleases.

They Whom Truth And Wisdom Lead, Can Gather Honey From A Weed.

Unless A Love Of Virtue Light The Flame, Satire Is, More Than Those He Brands, To Blame; He Hides Behind A Magisterial Air He Own Offences, And Strips Others' Bare.