If Honor Calls, Where'er She Points The

Within The Brain's Most Secret Cells, A Certain Lord Chief Justice Dwells, Of Sov'reign Power, Whom One And All, With Common Voice We Reason Call.

He Hurts Me Most Who Lavishly Commends.

With That Malignant Envy Which Turns Pale, And Sickens, Even If A Friend Prevail.

The Surest Way To Health, Say What They Will, Is Never To Suppose We Shall Be Ill; Most Of The Ills Which We Poor Mortals Know From Doctors And Imagination Flow.

Whom Drink Made Wits, Though Nature Made Them Fools.