"Thou'rt not the first night-wand'rer, Deceive'd by treach'rous moon-light: Nor the first starv'd Purveyor, Pleas'd with the spacious surface Of dunghill's outward verdure, The greedy eye attracting: When all within is nauseous. In choosing a companion, Thy choice, I find, directs thee To one of diff'rent aspect; For I am like old Moaid, Deform'd in ev'ry member. Hear then what I shall dictate; But let thine eye not see me; For prejudice will frustrate The wisest, best instructions."