Well Sir, 'tis granted, I said Dryden's Rhimes, Were stoln, unequal, nay dull many times: What foolish Patron, is there found of his, So blindly partial, to deny me this?...
Ancient Person, for whom I All the flattering youth defy, Long be it e'er thou grow old, Aching, shaking, crazy cold; But still continue as thou art, Ancient Person of my heart. ...
My dear mistress has a heart Soft as those kind looks she gave me, When with love's resistless art, And her eyes, she did enslave me; But her constancy's so weak, She's so wild and apt to wander,...