In lieu of his majesty of countenance—the timorous glances of servility;
Instead of Freedom's honest pride,—the spirit of a slave.
Nevertheless, there is something to be pleaded, even for a necessary guile,
Whilst the world, and all that is therein, lieth deep in evil.
Who can be altogether honest,—a champion never out of mail,
Ready to break a lance for truth with every crowding error?
Who can be altogether honest,—dragging out the secresies of life,
And risking to be lashed and loathed for each unkind disclosure?
Who can be altogether honest,—living in perpetual contentions,
And prying out the petty cheats that swell the social scheme?