149:31,000@@@@@| 149:31,000[' ]| 149:31,001[A ]| Once how I doted on$4$ this jilting town, 149:31,002[A ]| Thinking no$2$ heaven was out of London known, 149:31,003[A ]| Till I her beauties artificial found, 149:31,004[A ]| Her pleasures but a short and giddy round. 149:31,005[A ]| Like$4$ one who$6#1$ has his Phyllis long enjoyed, 149:31,006[A ]| Grown with the fulsome repetition cloyed, 149:31,007[A ]| Love's mists then vanish from before his eyes 149:31,008[A ]| And all the lady's frailties he descries 149:31,009[A ]| Quite surfeited with joy I now retreat 149:31,010[A ]| To$4$ the fresh air, a homely country seat, 149:31,011[A ]| Good hours, books, harmless sports, and wholesome meat. 149:31,012[A ]| And now at last I have chose my proper sphere, 149:31,013[A ]| Where men are plain and rustic, but sincere. 149:31,014[A ]| I never was for$4$ lies nor fawning made, 149:31,015[A ]| But call a wafer bread, and spade and spade. 149:31,016[A ]| I tell what merits got Lord**** his place 149:31,017[A ]| And laugh at married Mulgrave to$4$ his face. 149:31,018[A ]| I can not veer with every change of state, 149:31,019[A ]| Nor flatter villains though at court they are great, 149:31,020[A ]| Nor will$1$ I prostitute my pen for$4$ hire, 149:31,021[A ]| Praise Cromwell, damn him, write the Spanish*Friar 149:31,022[A ]| A Papist now, if next the Turk should reign, 149:31,023[A ]| Then piously transverse the Alcoran. 149:31,024[A ]| Methinks I hear one of the nation cry, 149:31,025@x | 'Bee Chreest, this is a Whiggish calumny, 149:31,026@x | All virtues are comprised in$4$ loyalty.' 149:31,027@x | Might I dispute with him I would change his note, 149:31,028@x | I would silence him that$6#2$ is, he would cut my throat! 149:31,029[A ]| This powerful way of reasoning never missed, 149:31,030[A ]| None are so$5#1$ positive but then desist, 149:31,031[A ]| As I will$1$ before it come to$4$ that$6#2$ extreme, 149:31,032[A ]| Our folly not our misery is my theme. 149:31,033[A ]| Well may we wonder what strange charm, what spell, 149:31,034[A ]| What mighty pleasures in$4$ this London dwell 149:31,035[A ]| That$3$ men renounce their ease, estates, and fame 149:31,036[A ]| And drudge it here to$9$ get a fopling's name; 149:31,037[A ]| That$3$ one of seeming sense, advanced in$4$ years, 149:31,038[A ]| Like$4$ a Sir*Courtly*Nice in$4$ town appears; 149:31,039[A ]| Others exchange their land for$4$ tawdry clothes 149:31,040[A ]| And will$1$ in$4$ spite of nature pass for$4$ beaux. 149:31,041[A ]| Indulgent Heaven, who$6#1$ never made aught in$4$ vain, 149:31,042[A ]| Each man for$4$ something proper did ordain, 149:31,043[A ]| Yet most against their genius blindly run, 149:31,044[A ]| The wrong they choose and what they are made for$5$ shun. 149:31,045[A ]| Thus Arran thinks for$4$ state affairs he is fit, 149:31,046[A ]| Hewitt for$4$ ogling, Chomly for$4$ a wit; 149:31,047[A ]| But it is in$4$ vain so$5#1$ wise these men to$9$ teach, 149:31,048[A ]| Besides the King's learned priests should only preach. 149:31,049[A ]| We will$1$ see how sparks the tedious day employ 149:31,050[A ]| And trace them in$4$ their warm pursuit of joy. 149:31,051[A ]| If they get dressed with much ado by$4$ noon, 149:31,052[A ]| In$4$ quest of beauty to$4$ the Mall they run, 149:31,053[A ]| Where like$4$ young boys with hat in$4$ hand they try 149:31,054[A ]| To$9$ catch some fluttering, gaudy butterfly. 149:31,055[A ]| Thus Grey pursues the lady with a face 149:31,056[A ]| Like$4$ forty more and with the same success, 149:31,057[A ]| Whose jilting conduct in$4$ her beauty's spite 149:31,058[A ]| Loses her fame and gets no$2$ pleasure by$4$ it; 149:31,059[A ]| The secret joys of an intrigue she slights 149:31,060[A ]| And in$4$ an equipage of fools delights: 149:31,061[A ]| So$3$ some vain heroes for$4$ a vain command 149:31,062[A ]| Forfeit their conscience, liberty, and land. 149:31,063[A ]| But see, High Mass is done, in$4$ crowds they go; 149:31,064[A ]| What, all these Irish, and Mall*Howard too! 149:31,065@b | It is very late, to$4$ Locket's let us away; 149:31,066@b | The Lady Frances comes, I will$1$ not stay.' 149:31,067[A ]| Expecting dinner, to$4$ discourse they fall, 149:31,068[A ]| Without respect of morals Censuring all: 149:31,069[A ]| The nymph they loved, the friend they hugged before 149:31,070[A ]| He is a vain coxcomb, she is a common whore. 149:31,071[A ]| No$2$ obligation can their jests prevent, 149:31,072[A ]| Wit like$4$ unruly wind in$4$ bowels pent 149:31,073[A ]| Torments the bearer till he gives it vent, 149:31,074[A ]| Though this offends the ear as that$6#2$ the nose, 149:31,075[A ]| No$2$ matter, it is for$4$ ease and out it goes; 149:31,076[A ]| But what they talk, too nauseous to$9$ rehearse, 149:31,077[A ]| I leave for$4$ the late ballad-writer's verse. 149:31,078[A ]| After a dear-bought meal, they haste away 149:31,079[A ]| To$4$ a dessert of ogling at the play. 149:31,080[A ]| What is here, which$6#1$ in$4$ the box's front I see, 149:31,081[A ]| Deformed old age, diseases, infamy 149:31,082[A ]| Warwick, North, Paget, Hinton, Martin, Willis, 149:31,083[A ]| And that$6#2$ epitome of lewdness, Ellis 149:31,084[A ]| I will$1$ not turn that$6#2$ way but observe the play; 149:31,085[A ]| Pox! it is a tragic farce of Banks today, 149:31,086[A ]| Besides some Irish wits the pit invade 149:31,087[A ]| With a worse din than cat-call serenade. 149:31,088[A ]| I must be gone, let us to$4$ Hyde*Park Repair; 149:31,089[A ]| If not good company, we will$1$ find good air. 149:31,090[A ]| Here with affected bow and side-glass look 149:31,091[A ]| The self-conceited fool is easily took. 149:31,092[A ]| There comes a spark with six in$4$ tassels dressed, 149:31,093[A ]| Charming the ladies' hearts with dint of breast 149:31,094[A ]| Like$4$ scullers on$4$ the Thames with frequent bow 149:31,095[A ]| They labour, tug, and in$4$ their coaches row 149:31,096[A ]| To$9$ meet some fair one, still they wheel about 149:31,097[A ]| Till she retires, and then they hurry out. 149:31,098[A ]| But next we will$1$ visit where the beaux in$4$ order come 149:31,099[A ]| It is yet too early for$4$ the drawing-room 149:31,100[A ]| Here Novel's and Olivia's abound, 149:31,101[A ]| But one plain Manly is not to$9$ be found. 149:31,102[A ]| Flattering the present, the absent they abuse 149:31,103[A ]| And vent their spleen and lies, pretending news; 149:31,104[A ]| Why such a lady is pale and would not dance, 149:31,105[A ]| This to$4$ the country gone, and that$6#2$ to$4$ France, 149:31,106[A ]| Who$6#1$ is married, shipped away, or missed at court; 149:31,107[A ]| Others' misfortunes thus afford them sport. 149:31,108[A ]| A new song is produced, the author guessed, 149:31,109[A ]| The verses and the poet made a jest: 149:31,110[A ]| Live laureat Exeter, in$4$ whom we see 149:31,111[A ]| The English can excel antiquity 149:31,112[A ]| Dryden writes epic, Wolseley odes in$4$ vain, 149:31,113[A ]| Virgil and Horace still the chief maintain 149:31,114[A ]| He with his matchless poems has alone 149:31,115[A ]| Bavius and Maevius in$4$ their way outdone.' 149:31,116[A ]| But now for$4$ cards and play they all propose, 149:31,117[A ]| While I who$6#1$ never in$4$ good breeding lose, 149:31,118[A ]| Who$6#1$ can not civilly sit still and see 149:31,119[A ]| The ladies pick my purse and laugh at me, 149:31,120[A ]| Pretending earnest business drive to$4$ court, 149:31,121[A ]| Where those who$6#1$ can do nothing else resort. 149:31,122[A ]| The English must not seek preferment there, 149:31,123[A ]| For$4$ Mac's and O's all places destined are. 149:31,124[A ]| No$2$ more we will$1$ send our youth to$4$ Paris now 149:31,125[A ]| French principles and breeding once would do 149:31,126[A ]| They for$4$ improvement must to$4$ Ireland sail, 149:31,127[A ]| The Irish wit and language now prevail. 149:31,128[A ]| But soft my pen, with care this subject touch, 149:31,129[A ]| Stop where you are, you soon may write too much! 149:31,130[A ]| Quite weary with the hurry of the day 149:31,131[A ]| I to$4$ my peaceful home direct my way; 149:31,132[A ]| While some in$4$ hack and habit of fatigue 149:31,133[A ]| May have, but oft pretend, a close intrigue, 149:31,134[A ]| Others more open to$4$ the tavern scour, 149:31,135[A ]| Calling for$4$ wine, and every man his whore, 149:31,136[A ]| As safe as those with quality perhaps, 149:31,137[A ]| For$3$ Newburgh says great ladies can give claps. 149:31,138[A ]| Some where they are kept, and many where they keep, 149:31,139[A ]| Must see an easy mistress before they sleep. 149:31,140[A ]| Thus sparks may dress, dance, play, write, fight, get drunk, 149:31,141[A ]| But all the mighty pother ends in$4$ punk. 149:31,000[' ]| 149:31,000[' ]| .