III.

Leave for a while thy costly country seat, And, to be great indeed, forget The nauseous pleasures of the great: Make haste and come; Come, and forsake thy cloying store; Thy turret, that surveys, from high, The smoke, and wealth, and noise of Rome, And all the busy pageantry That wise men scorn, and fools adore; Come, give thy soul a loose, and taste the pleasures of the poor.