The World To Bacon Does

An Hour Will Come, With Pleasure To Relate Your Sorrows Past, As Benefits Of Fate.

When He Spoke, What Tender Words He Used! So Softly, That Like Flakes Of Feathered Snow, They Melted As They Fell.

Not Judging Truth To Be In Nature Better Than Falsehood, But Setting A Value Upon Both According To Interest.

Ill Writers Are Usually The Sharpest Censors.

By Education Most Have Been Misled.