1Don Pedro from his shirt has washed the fleas
2that horders of crooks felt they’d more right to own
3the understanding critic firstly sees
4which neither time nor tide can long postpone
5They both are right not untamed mutterings
6the North Wind Bites into his architrave
7such merchandise a melancholy brings
8for burning bushes never fish forgave
9Staunch pilgrims longest journeys can’t depress
10a piercint wit would sprightliest horses flog
11socrates watched his hemlock effervesce
12Their sculptors did our best our hulks the clog
13where no one bothered how one warmed one’s bum
14soliloquies predict great things old chum
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