Alas! they many a fond evasion made;

They could relinquish neither love nor trade.

They went to church, but, thinking, fail’d to pray; 320

They felt not ease or comfort at a play.

If times were good—“We merit not such times;”

If ill—“Is this the produce of our crimes?”

When sick—“’Tis thus forbidden pleasures cease;”

When well—they both demand, “Had Zimri peace?

For though our worthy master was not slain,

His injured ghost has reason to complain.”