’Tis more than you, with wit and beauty join’d,
A pleasing form and a discerning mind.
The world and I are no such cordial friends;
I have my purpose, they their various ends.
I say my prayers, and lead a sober life,
Nor laugh at Cornus, or at Cornus’ wife.
What’s fame to me, who pray, and pay my rent?
If my friends know me honest, I’m content.
Well, but the joy to see my works in print!
Myself too pictur’d in a mezzo-tint!