HEN, make the most of what you still may spend, Ere you, too, into bankruptcy descend, Bill upon bill, and under bill, to lie, Sans Cash, sans Love, sans Lady—What an end! . . . . . . |
ASTE not your evenings in the vain pursuit Of this or that girl. Bittersweet the fruit! Better be jocund with them, one and all, And loving many, thus your love dilute. |
OME, with vivacity have sought to charm Away my fears, and still my soul's alarm; To win me subtly, with a smile or sigh, Or sweet appealing touch upon the arm. |
THERS have tempted me with festive cheer, And Chafing-dish Concoctions, quaint and queer; With dear, domestic airs have plied their arts— Yet, all their wiles were neither there nor here! |
UT when Platonic Friendship they have tried, Then, to the gods for Mercy, have I cried! For, in the Husband-hunt, all other snares Sink into Nothingness, this game beside! |