The People Are The City.

Nay Then, Let The Devil Wear Black, For I'll Have A Suit Of Sables.

Lay Aside Life-harming Heaviness, And Entertain A Cheerful Disposition.

Slander Lives Upon Succession, For Ever Housed Where It Gets Possession.

But 'tis Common Proof, That Lowliness Is Young Ambition's Ladder, Whereto The Climber-upward Turns His Face; But When He Once Attains The Upmost Round, He Then Turns His Back, Looks In The Clouds, Scorning The Vase Defrees By Which He Did Ascend.

I Would With Such Perfection Govern, Sir, T'excel The Golden Age.