Chapter 1820 of 1964 · 63 words · ~1 min read

XCI.

But here again, why will I thus entangle Myself with Metaphysics? None can hate So much as I do any kind of wrangle; And yet, such is my folly, or my fate, I always knock my head against some angle About the present, past, or future state: Yet I wish well to Trojan and to Tyrian, For I was bred a moderate Presbyterian.