And no less warm and zealous 'gainst my foes,
Spite of commending thousands will oppose;
I dare thy worst, with scorn behold thy rage,
But with an eye of pity view thy age;
Thy feeble age, in which as in a glass
We see how men to dissolution pass.
Thou wretched being, whom on reason's plan,
So chang'd, so lost, I cannot call a man,
What could persuade thee at this time of life
To launch afresh into this sea of strife?