His name is lost,--for though his sons have name,
It is not his, they all escape the shame;
Nor is there vestige now of all he had,
His means are wasted, for his heir was mad:
Still we of Swallow as a monster speak,
A hard bad man, who prey'd upon the weak.



LETTER VII.



Finirent multi letho mala; credula vitam
Spes alit, et melius cras fore semper ait.
TIBULLUS.

He fell to juggle, cant, and cheat . . .
For as those fowls that live in water
Are never wet, he did but smatter;
Whate'er he labour'd to appear,
His understanding still was clear.
A paltry wretch he had, half starved,
That him in place of zany served.
BUTLER, Hudibras.

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PROFESSIONS--PHYSIC.