Mankind Is Unamendable.

Chaos Of Thought And Passion, All Confused; Still By Himself Abused Or Disabused; Created Half To Rise, And Half To Fall; Great Lord Of All Things, Yet A Prey To All; Sole Judge Of Truth, In Endless Error Hurled,- The Glory, Jest, And Riddle Of The World.

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

Modest Plainness Sets Off Sprightly Wit, For Works May Have More With Than Does 'em Good, As Bodies Perish Through Excess Of Blood.

And Little Eagles Wave Their Wings In Gold.

Wit Is The Lowest Form Of Humor.