In Every Age And Clime We See

Envy Is A Kind Of Praise.

Is There No Hope? The Sick Man Said, The Silent Doctor Shook His Head, And Took His Leave With Signs Of Sorrow, Despairing Of His Fee To-morrow.

Here Shock, The Pride Of All His Kind, Is Laid, Who Fawned Like Man, But Ne'er Like Man Betrayed.

Fair Is The Marigold, For Pottage Meet.

I Know You Lawyers Can With Ease, Twist Words And Meanings As You Please; That Language, By Your Skill Made Pliant, Will Bend To Favour Every Client; That 'tis The Fee Directs The Sense, To Make Out Either Side's Pretense.