To Swear Is Neither Brave, Polite, Nor

Every Woman Is At Heart A Rake.

Whether The Darken'd Room To Muse Invite, Or Whiten'd Wall Provoke The Skew'r To Write; In Durance, Exile, Bedlam, Or The Mint, Like Lee Or Budgel I Will Rhyme And Print.

So Upright Quakers Please Both Man And God.

How Glowing Guilt Exalts The Keen Delight!

On Cold December Fragrant Chaplets Blow, And Heavy Harvests Nod Beneath The Snow.