“Vain are thy Hopes, to scape censorious Eyes;
Truth will appear, through all the thin Disguise:
Thou hast an Ulcer which no Leach can heal,
Though thy broad Shoulder-belt the Wound conceal.
Say thou art sound and hale in ev’ry part,
We know, we know thee rotten at thy heart.
We know thee sullen, impotent, and proud:
Nor canst thou cheat thy Nerve, who cheat’st the Croud.”

--Dryd*n’s P*rsius, Th* Fourth Satyr

Two Thoughts on Umbrism.

On my victrola- Rav*l: Gaspard d* la Nuit.