A Fellow Feeling Makes Us

There Still Remains To Mortify A Wit The Many-headed Monster Of The Pit.

What Nature Wants, Commodious Gold Bestows; 'tis Thus We Cut The Bread Another Sows.

For Wit And Judgment Often Are At Strife, Though Meant Each Other's Aid, Like Man And Wife.

Wretches Hang That Jurymen May Dine.

Tis But A Part We See, And Not A Whole.