Or grunt and sweat over a Mitchell’s J,
When but the act of trying Thatcher’s Pen,
That well-discovered luxury, from which boon
No traveller will turn, puzzles no will,
And makes us cease to bear the ills we had—
To write with comfort, which we knew not of?
As knowledge should make wise men of us all,
Then let the native hue of resolution
Stick fast no more, ’til this good Pen is sought;
And enterprises of great pith and moment