What Ever The Motive For The Insult,

Melancholy, Indeed, Should Be Diverted By Every Means But Drinking.

The Hostility Perpetually Exercised Between One Man And Another, Is Caused By The Desire Of Many For That Which Only Few Can Possess. Every Man Would Be Rich, Powerful, And Famous; Yet Fame, Power, And Riches, Are Only The Names Of Relative Conditions, Which Imply The Obscurity, Dependence, And Poverty Of Greater Numbers.

Philosophy Has Often Attempted To Repress Insolence By Asserting That All Conditions Are Leveled By Death; A Position Which, However It May Defect The Happy, Will Seldom Afford Much Comfort To The Wretched.

Suspicion Is Very Often A Useless Pain.

These Are The Men Who, Without Virtue, Labour, Or Hazard, Are Growing Rich, As Their Country Is Impoverished; They Rejoice, When Obstinacy Or Ambition Adds Another Year To Slaughter And Devastation; And Laugh, From Their Desks, At Bravery And Science, While They Are Adding Figure To Figure, And Cipher To Cipher, Hoping For A New Contract From A New Armament, And Computing The Profits Of A Siege Or Tempest.