In simple manners, all the secret lies;
Be kind and virtuous, you’ll be blest and wise.
Young.
Our hearts ne’er bow but to superior worth,
Nor ever fail of their allegiance there;
Fools, indeed, drop the man in their account,
And vote the mantle into majesty.
Shall man be proud to wear his livery,
And souls in ermine scorn a soul without?
Can place or lessen us, or aggrandise?