Samuel Butler

Where entity and quiddity,
The ghosts of defunct bodies, fly.

Where entity and quiddity,
The ghosts of defunct bodies, fly.

He who does not make his words rather serve to conceal than
discover the sense of his heart deserves read more

He who does not make his words rather serve to conceal than
discover the sense of his heart deserves to have it pulled out
like a traitor's and shown publicly to the rabble.

She that with poetry is won,
Is but a desk to write upon;
And what men say read more

She that with poetry is won,
Is but a desk to write upon;
And what men say of her they mean
No more than on the thing they lean.

'Tis virtue, wit, and worth, and all
That men divine and sacred call;
For what is worth, read more

'Tis virtue, wit, and worth, and all
That men divine and sacred call;
For what is worth, in anything,
But so much money as 't will bring?

So justice while she winks at crimes,
Stumbles on innocence sometimes.

So justice while she winks at crimes,
Stumbles on innocence sometimes.