Arrogance Is The Act Of The Great;

The Wife Was Pretty, Trifling, Childish, Weak; She Could Not Think, But Would Not Cease To Speak.

To Show The World What Long Experience Gains, Requires Not Courage, Though It Calls For Pains; But At Life's Outset To Inform Mankind Is A Bold Effort Of A Valiant Mind.

But Jest Apart--what Virtue Canst Thou Trace In That Broad Trim That Hides Thy Sober Face? Does That Long-skirted Drab, That Over-nice And Formal Clothing, Prove A Scorn Of Vice? Then For Thine Accent--what In Sound Can Be So Void Of Grace As Dull Monotony?

With Eye Upraised His Master's Look To Scan, The Joy, The Solace, And The Aid Of Man: The Rich Man's Guardian And The Poor Man's Friend, The Only Creature Faithful To The End.

This, Books Can Do-nor This Alone; They Give New Views To Life, And Teach Us How To Live; They Soothe The Grieved, The Stubborn They Chastise; Fools They Admonish, And Confirm The Wise. Their Aid They Yield To All: They Never Shun The Man Of Sorrow, Nor The Wretch Undone; Unlike The Hard, The Selfish, And The Proud, They Fly Not Sullen From The Suppliant Crowd; Nor Tell To Various People Various Things, But Show To Subjects, What They Show To Kings.