Be it resolved, that this be sacred ground, Nor would I now have miss'd this single hit If such there be who feel the force and fire Inde vaporata lector mihi ferveat aure. Non hic, qui in crepidas Graiorum ludere gestit Nec qui abaco numeros, et secto in pulvere metas Si Cynico barbam petulans Nonaria vellat. Let them acknowledge that my breast has known Fires not less pure, less generous than their own. But let that sordid wretch approach not here, Whose utmost wit is some offensive jeer; Whose narrow mind nor sense, nor honour knows ; Hence too, that mushroom race of beardless fools, |