In Indolent Vacuity Of Thought.

All Constraint, / Except What Wisdom Lays On Evil Men, / Is Evil.

Most Satirists Are Indeed A Public Scourge; Their Mildest Physic Is A Farrier's Purge; Their Acrid Temper Turns, As Soon As Stirr'd, The Milk Of Their Good Purpose All To Curd. Their Zeal Begotten, As Their Works Rehearse, By Lean Despair Upon An Empty Purse.

But Poverty, With Most Who Whimper Forth Their Long Complaints, Is Self-inflicted Woe; The Effect Of Laziness, Or Sottish Write.

Friends, Books, A Garden, And Perhaps His Pen, Delightful Industry Enjoy'd At Home, An Nature, In Her Cultivated Trim Dress'ed To His Taste, Inviting Him Abroad - Can He Want Occupation Who Has These?

The Cares Of Today Are Seldom Those Of Tomorrow.