On men like these, devoid of sense or taste,
In vain might Cicero his rhet'rick waste.
Sufficient 'tis for me, that what is here,
I got from those who ev'ry-where appear
The friends of truth:—let others say the same;
What more would they expect should be my aim?
THE INDISCREET CONFESSIONS
[Original]
FAMED Paris ne'er within its walls had got,