... of custom in the fair, While not a soul demands your ware? Where you have nothing to produce For private life, or public use? Court, city, country, want you not; You cannot bribe, betray, or plot. For poets, law makes no provision; The wealthy have you in derision: Of state affairs you cannot smatter; Are awkward when you try to flatter; Your portion, taking Britain round, Was just one annual hundred pound; Now not so much as in remainder, Since Cibber[3] brought in an attainder; For ever fix'd by right divine (A monarch's right) on Grub Street line. Poor ... — The Poems of Jonathan Swift, D.D., Volume I (of 2) • Jonathan Swift
...
