Let me reflect;—I've not allow'd me time
To purse the pieces, and if dropp'd they'd chime."
Fertile is evil in the soul of man—
He paused—said Jachin, "They may drop on bran.
180
Why then 'tis safe and (all consider'd) just;
The poor receive it—'tis no breach of trust;
The old and widows may their trifles miss,
There must be evil in a good like this.
But I'll be kind—the sick I'll visit twice,