RICH people only can be won By open, barefaced flattery; Money is flat, my worthy son, And needs must flatly flatter'd be. The box of incense swing with zeal Before all worshipp'd golden calves; In dust and mire with meekness kneel, And, above all, ne'er praise by halves. The price of bread this year is high, Fine words we lavish all in vain; Mecaenas' dog to praise, then, try, And earn a bellyful again. |