Her Love is never half so good.
My Lord, says she, all that I know;
For all the World has told me so.
S———d———rs, April, 1717.
In a Barber's Shop.
Will. —— —— always fights with his Cunning,
Whilst one Foot stands still, th'other is running.
At the Sugar-Loaf in Bell-Yard, Temple-Bar.
If Venus, or if Bacchus, be my Boast,
Claret's my Liquor, and Miss C—— my Toast,