"The Best of Men have ever lov'd Repose:
" They hate to mingle in the filthy Fray;
"Where the Soul sowrs, and gradual Rancour grows,
" Imbitter'd more from peevish Day to Day.
"Even Those whom Fame has lent her fairest Ray,
" The most renown'd of worthy Wights of Yore,
"From a base World at last have stolen away:
" So SCIPIO, to the soft  Shore
"Retiring, tasted Joy he never knew before.