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Of Fashion, Gaming, and all vain pursuits; The outcome of all gullibility. And a veneered respectability; They need no training, nor scholastic rules. Customs perpetuate the race of fools; A Nation's victimisers and their tricks, Of many, have made fools and lunatics; And the distinction between rogues and fools, Is partly that 'twixt workmen and their tools; Of which we have experience all around. And knowledge that they everywhere abound; Indeed my task would be voluminous, Were I the march of folly to discuss. Or of rascality, which I expect Will soon outstride the march of intellect.

I satirise Society because I much dislike its follies and gewgaws; At best, its circles—he will find who seeks— Consist of mutual admiration cliques. And some, who manifest to all outside, Their vanity, hypocrisy, or pride;