While grooms and coachmen, not in vain, each evening seek the Mews.
"The dyer who by dying lives, a dire life maintains;
The glazier, it is known, receives—his profits from his panes:
By gardeners thyme is tied, 'tis true, when spring is in its prime;
But time or tide won't wait for you, if you are tied for time.
"Then now you see, my little dears, the way to make a pun;
A trick which you, through coming years, should sedulously shun.
The fault admits of no defence; for wheresoe'er 'tis found,
You sacrifice the sound for sense: the sense is never sound.
"So let your words and actions too, one single meaning prove,