And Write About It, Goddess, And About

But See, The Shepherds Shun The Noonday Heat, The Lowing Herds To Murmuring Brooks Retreat, To Closer Shades The Panting Flocks Remove; Ye Gods! And Is There No Relief For Love?

Trade It May Help, Society Extend, But Lures The Pirate, Ant Corrupts The Friend: It Raises Armies In A Nation's Aid, But Bribes A Senate, And The Land's Betray'd.

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

Our Judgments, Like Our Watches, None Go Just Alike, Yet Each Believes His Own

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