Nay, Droop Not, Fellows; Innocence

We Have Not An Hour Of Life In Which Our Pleasures Relish Not Some Pain, Our Sours, Some Sweetness.

Factions Among Yourselves; Preferring Such To Offices And Honors, As Ne'er Read The Elements Of Saving Policy; But Deeply Skilled In All The Principles That Usher To Destruction.

Tis The Only Discipline We Are Born For; All Studies Else Are But As Circular Lines, And Death The Center Where They All Must Meet.

Thou Art Figured Blind, And Yet We Borrow Our Best Sight From Thee.

Patience, The Beggar's Virtue, Shall Find No Harbor Here.