They’re always eaten up; there is, I think,
More clanship between devils any day
Than among all the angels. Interest
Binds us together, and howe’er we fight
Among ourselves to ease our bitter blood,
We do not hate each other half as much
As we do hate the good. Neighbours who fight
Can generally take most perfect care,
Not only of themselves, but of the goose
Who sticks her bill into the fuss they make.