Where Men Of Judgment Creep

A Man Renowned For Repartee Will Seldom Scruple To Make Free With Friendship's Finest Feeling, Will Thrust A Dagger At Your Breast, And Say He Wounded You In Jest, By Way Of Balm For Healing.

Is Base In Kind, And Born To Be A Slave.

A Fretful Temper Will Divide The Closest Knot That May Be Tied, By Ceaseless Sharp Corrosion; A Temper Passionate And Fierce May Suddenly Your Joys Disperse At One Immense Explosion.

And, Of All Lies (be That One Poet's Boast) / The Lie That Flatters I Abhor The Most.

There Is A Pleasure In Poetic Pains / Which Only Poets Know.