Devotion's Self Shall Steal A Thought From

Dear, Damned, Distracting Town, Farewell! Thy Fools No More I'll Tease: This Year In Peace, Ye Critics, Dwell, Ye Harlots, Sleep At Ease!

Satire's My Weapon, But I'm Too Discreet To Run Amuck, And Tilt At All I Meet.

Light Quirks Of Music, Broken And Uneven,make The Soul Dance Upon A Jig To Heav'n.

Vices And Virtues Are Of A Strange Nature, For The More We Have, The Fewer We Think We Have.

I As Little Fear That God Will Damn A Man That Has Charity, As I Hope That The Priests Can Save One Who Has Not.