And thus the glowing Climate did entice
Tendrils to curl, unprune’d, o’er Paradise.
Sir Thomas having close’d his love-sick strain,
Come, buxom Muse! and let us frisk again!
Close to a Chapel, near the Castle-gates,
Dwelt certain stickers in the Devil’s skirts;
Who, with prodigious fervour, shave their pates,
And shew a most religious scorn for shirts.
Their House’s sole Endowment was our Knight’s:—