Your charms pursue,
Church—physic—law—you he fair, you know it,
You’ll none, not you!= .
Age looks too dry, and youth too blooming:
The scholar’s face there’s too much gloom in;
This man’s too dull, that too presuming;
His mouth’s too wide!—
For mending, Lord! you think there’s room in
The best, when tried.
In each you find some fault to snarl at,