Contented in my humble State,
I look with Pity on the Great;
Who only Birth, or Wealth, respect,
And treat true Merit with neglect.

O Pow'r supreme! let me implore
Some Little from thy boundless Store!
Give me a constant, small Support,
Without the Plague of paying Court!
Let none but Fools, who pine to rise,
Be curs'd to bow, where they despise.