My Lodging Is On The Cold Ground,

Praising All Alike, Is Praising None.

Who Hath Not Heard The Rich Complain Of Surfeits, And Corporeal Pain? He Barr'd From Every Use Of Wealth, Envies The Ploughman's Strength And Health.

Can You Support The Expense Of A Husband, Hussy, In Gaming, Drinking And Whoring? Have You Money Enough To Carry On The Daily Quarrels Of Man And Wife About Who Shall Squander Most?

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.

Lest Men Suspect Your Tale Untrue, Keep Probability In View.