Give Up All Hope Of Peace So

The Tongue Is The Vile Slave's Vilest Part.

Lost Money Is Bewailed With Deeper Sighs Than Friends, Or Kindred, And With Louder Cries.

Now We Suffer The Evils Of A Long Peace; Luxury More Cruel Than War Broods Over Us And Avenges A Conquered World.

For He, Who Gave This Vast Machine To Roll, Breathed Life In Then, In Us A Reasoning Soul; That Kindred Feelings Might Our State Improve, And Mutual Wants Conduct To Mutual Love.

Rare Indulgence Produces Greater Pleasure.