Who to patch up his fame, or fill his purse, Still pilfers wretched plans, and makes them worse; Like gypsies, lest the stolen brat be known, Defacing first, then claiming for his own.

But, spite of all the criticising elves, Those who would make us feel-must feel themselves.

No statesman e'er will find it worth his pains To tax our labours and excise our brains.

He mouths a sentence as curs mouth a bone.