By outward show let's not be cheated; An ass should like an ass be treated.

My lodging is on the cold ground, And hard, very hard, is my fare, But that which grieves me more Is the coldness of my dear.

I never, with important air, In conversation overbear. . . . . My tongue within my lips I rein; For who talks much must talk in vain.

Thus shadow owes its birth to light.

The sun was set; the night came on apace, And falling dews bewet around the place; The bat takes airy rounds on leathern wings, And the hoarse owl his woeful dirges sings.

'T is woman that seduces all mankind; By her we first were taught the wheedling arts.

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.