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,—