A Saint In Crape Is Twice A

Slave To No Sect, Who Takes No Private Road, But Looks Through Nature Up To Nature's God.

Fool, 'tis In Vain From Wit To Wit To Roam: Know, Sense, Like Charity, Begins At Home.

You Beat Your Pate, And Fancy Wit Will Come: Knock As You Please, There's No Body At Home.

A Gen'rous Heart Repairs A Sland'rous Tongue.

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