How happy could I be with either, Were t'other dear charmer away!

The charge is prepared; the lawyers are met; The judges all ranged (a terrible show!) I go, undismay'd. For death is a debt, A debt on demand. So take what I owe.

Envy's a sharper spur than pay.

And when a lady's in the case, You know, all other things give place.

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.

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.

O Polly, you might have toyed and kissed, by keeping men off, you keep them on.