Book Armor Because the Empire never Ended

Nature as a thing for all

But ought a Clown, with like Companion, rude,
On Scenes, so sacred, daringly intrude?
Shall vulgar Ignorance dare those haunts invade
For Knowledge—Learning—Wit—and Wisdom—made?
Shall beastly Boors those hallowed paths explore
Which Taste, and Genius, trod but just before?
Shall Ignorant Penury trace the tracks where Wealth
E’er paced for pleasure, or patroled for Health?
Loath’d Rustics’ footsteps thus presume to tread
Where Fame and Fashion, Lords and Ladies led?
Such swinish nostrils seek to snuff the scent,
Solely for noble Births and Noses meant?

- James Woodhouse