[p15]
His Surinam friend could they possibly mean,
Who carried her little ones set in her skin.
Those alone were the jewels his friend ever wore,
Like Cornelia’s, the good Roman matron of yore.
Having stated the case with regard to attire,
He said, with some warmth, that he did not spit fire:
And he ask’d why the wise ones omitted to hint
Where he carried his tinder, his steel, and his flint:
That his time was more usefully spent, he might say,
In chasing the vagrants and spectres away.