"For your Tragedy of SOCRATE, thanks.

At Paris they are going to burn it, the wretched fools,--not aware that absurd fanaticism is their dominant vice.

Better burn the dose of medicine, however, than the useful Doctor.

I, can I join myself to that set?
If I bite you, as you complain, it is without my knowledge.

But I am surrounded with enemies, one hitting me, another pricking me, another daubing me with mud;--patience at last yields, and one flies abroad into a general rage, too indiscriminate perhaps." You talk of my Verses on Rossbach (my ADIEU TO THE HOOPERS on finding their Bridge burnt [Supra, p.