Classic Poem

O Why will Mortals be so rash,
Fearless thro' Thick and Thin to dash!
Nor in Life's Race to pick their Way!
Thus Serius gravely us'd to say — —
Nor would the formal Zealot spare
The little Failures of Bellair .

Th' Imposture took with not a few,
But Laetus always better knew:
Yet the dull Sot the same appear'd,
And canted on when Laetus heard.

We own 'tis just, the Friend replies,
What you condemn, what you advise;
The Time and Place are not amiss — —
Yet why from thee so much of this?
Sure thou hadst tumbled in the Dirt,
And by thy Fall receiv'd some Hurt:
Or a great Secret he found out,
Who gave thee Physic for the Gout .