[Tea-Table Miscellany Contents]
WHen Chloe we ply,
We swear we shall die,
Her eyes do our heart so enthrall;
But ‘tis for her pelf,
And not for herself;
‘Tis all artifice, artifice all.
–
The maidens are coy,
They’ll pish! and they’ll fie!
And swear, if you’re rude, they will call;
But whisper so low,
By which you may know,
‘Tis all artifice, artifice all.
–
My dear, the wives cry,
If ever you die,
To marry again I ne’er shall;
But less than a year,
Will make it appear,
‘Tis all artifice, artifice all.
–
In matters of state,
And party debate,
For church and for justice we bawl;
But if you’ll attend,
You’ll find in the end,
‘Tis all artifice, artifice all.
