LXVIII
BUT much as Golf has play’d the Infidel,
And robb’d me of my worldly Profit—Well,
I often wonder what the Grubbers earn
One half so precious as the Joy they sell.
LXIX
WHAT! for a senseless Bank-Account to wreak
Their manly Strength on Ledgers, till too weak
To swing a club?—So Caddies calmly tread
In Mire the Ball Heav’n sent them here to seek.