Ye who govern this mighty world and its mighty concerns with the engines of eloquence,—who heat it, and cool it, and melt it, and mollify it,⸺and then harden it again to your purpose ⸺
Ye who wind and turn the passions with this great windlass, and, having done it, lead the owners of them, whither ye think meet—
Ye, lastly, who drive⸺and why not, Ye also who are driven, like turkeys to market with a stick and a red clout—meditate—meditate, I beseech you, upon Trim’s hat.