But turning Head, a sudden cursed Crew,
That innocent Provision overthrew,
And without drinking, made me purge and spew;
⎫
⎬
⎭
The Man’s a Fool, ’tis true, but that’s no Matter,
For he’s a mighty Wit with those that flatter,
But a poor Blockhead is a wretched Creature.
⎫
⎬
⎭
Tho’ he alone was dismal Sight enough,
His Train contributed to set him off;
All of his Shape, all of the self-same Stuff:
⎫