Song LXII., pp.314-315.

[Tea-Table Miscellany Contents]

HOW happy are we, 

Who from thinking are free, 

That curbing disease of the mind, 

Can indulge every taste, 

Love where we like best, 

Not by dull reputation confin’d, 


When we are young, fit to toy, 

Gay delights we enjoy, 

And have crowds of new lovers still wooing; 

When we’re old and decay’d, 

We procure for the trade, 

Srill in every age we are doing. 


If a cully we meet, 

We spend what we get 

Every day, for the next never think; 

When we die, where we go 

We have no sense to know, 

For a bawd always dies in her drink. 

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