A Woman's Friendship Ever Ends In Love.

Some Folks Of Cider Make A Rout And Cider's Well Enough No Doubt When Better Liquors Fail; But Wine, That's Richer, Better Still, Ev'n Wine Itself (deny't Who Will) Must Yield To Nappy Ale

How, Like A Moth, The Simple Maid Still Plays Around The Flame!

What Will Not Luxury Taste? Earth, Sea, And Air, Are Daily Ransack'd For The Bill Of Fare. Blood Stuffed In Skins Is British Christians' Food, And France Robs Marshes Of The Croaking Brood.

Of All Mechanics, Of All Servile Handycrafts-men, A Gamester Is The Vilest. But Yet, As Many Of The Quality Are Of The Profession, He Is Admitted Amongst The Politest Company.

What Then In Love Can Woman Do? If We Grow Fond They Shun Us. And When We Fly Them, They Pursue: But Leave Us When They've Won Us.