Let courts be quiet, if they know
The happy knack of being so.
The pestilence flies everywhere,
Almost indefinite as air:
All places need the fanning breeze,
To dissipate the rank disease.
Vice—(not like beasts for show—confin’d)
Runs mad at large, and bites mankind:
Alike the taint infects the brain
Of those that dwell in court and plain: