The Season When To Come,

Of Fight Or Fly, This Choice Is Left Ye, To Resist Or Die.

To Wake The Soul By Tender Strokes Of Art, To Raise The Genius, And To Mend The Heart; To Make Mankind, In Conscious Virtue Bold, Live O'er Each Seene, And Be What They Behold: For This The Tragic Muse First Trod The Stage.

O Let Us Still The Secret Joy Partake, To Follow Virtue Even For Virtue's Sake.

Tis All In Vain To Keep A Constant Pother About One Vice And Fall Into Another.

At Ev'ry Word A Reputation Dies.