And When A Lady's In

A Rich Rogue Nowadays Is Fit Company For Any Gentleman; And The World, My Dear, Hath Not Such A Contempt For Roguery As You Imagine.

Beasts Kill For Hunger, Men For Pay.

The Sun Was Set; The Night Came On Apace, And Falling Dews Bewet Around The Place; The Bat Takes Airy Rounds On Leathern Wings, And The Hoarse Owl His Woeful Dirges Sings.

Fools May Our Scorn, Not Envy, Raise. For Envy Is A Kind Of Praise.

If The Heart Of A Man Is Depressed With Cares, The Mist Is Dispell'd When A Woman Appears; Like The Notes Of A Fiddle, She Sweetly, Sweetly Raises The Spirits, And Charms Our Ears.