"Then leave Complaints: Fools only strive/ To make a Great an honest Hive. / T' enjoy the World's Conveniencies,/ Befamed in War, yet live in Ease / Without great Vices, is a vain / Eutopia seated in the Brain. / Fraud, Luxury, and Pride must live;/ Whilst we the Benefits receive. / Hunger's a dreadful Plague, no doubt,/ Yet who digests or thrives without? / Do we not owe the Growth of Wine / To the dry, crooked, shabby Vine? / Which, whilst its Shutes neglected stood, / Choak'd other Plants, and ran to Wood; / But blest us with its Noble Fruit; / As soon as it was tied, and cut: / So Vice is benefcial found, / When it's by Justice lopt, and bound; / Nay, where the People would be great,/ As necessary to the State, / As Hunger is to make 'em eat. / Bare Vertue can't make Nations live/ In Splendour; they, that would revive/ A Golden Age, must be as free, / For Acorns, as for Honesty. "