Telling the Friar to repair
To the sweet, secret Bower;—
But not a word of any crabsticks there.
Thus have I seen a liquorish, black rat,
Lure’d by the Cook, to sniff, and smell her bacon;
And, when he’s eager for a bit of fat,
Down goes a trap upon him, and he’s taken.
A tiny Page,—for, formerly, a boy
Was a mere dunce who did not understand
The doctrines of Sir Pandarus, of Troy,—