He smelleth praise and swalloweth,—yea, though it be palpable and plain,
Say unto him, Folly, thou art Wisdom,—he will bless thee for thy lie.
Flatterer, thou shalt rue thy trade, though it have many present gains;
Those varnished wares may sell apace, yet shall they spoil thy credit.
Thine is the intoxicating cup, which whoso drinketh it shall nauseate:
Thine is trickery and cheating; but deception never pleased for long.
And though while fresh thy fragrance seemed even as the dews of charity,
Yet afterward it fouled thy censer, as with savour of stale smoke.
For the great mind detected thee at once, answering thine emptiness with pity,
He saw thy self-interested zeal, and was not cozened by vain-glory: