Yet some say there’s no Dragons.——Nay, tis said,
There’s no St. George——Pray Heav’n there be a Maid.
In the Window of a fine Assembly-Room on a vast Appearance at its Opening.
The Novelty this Crowd invites,
’Tis strange, and therefore it delights;
For Folks Things eagerly pursue,
Not that they’re good, but that they’re new.
Pleasure must vary, or must cease,
We tire of Bliss, grow sick of Ease.
And if the Year we’re doom’d to Play,