To check an upstart’s empty pride,
Thus sage the one horse chair reply’d.
‘Pray, when the consequence is weigh’d
What’s all your spirit and parade?
From mirth to grief what sad transitions,
To broken bones—and impositions!
Or if no bones are broke, what’s worse,
Your schemes make work for Glass and Nourse.
On us pray spare your keen reproaches,
From one-horse chairs men rise to coaches;