Fuss is the froth of business.
Extremes meet', as the whiting said with its tail in its mouth.
But evil is wrought by want of thought, As well as want of heart!
Ben Battle was a soldier bold, and used to war's alarms, But a cannon-ball took off his legs, so he laid down his arms.
Oh! God! That bread should be so dear, and flesh and blood so cheap!
There is not a string attuned to mirth but has its chord of melancholy.