From a Tavern in Fleet-Street.
I’ll drink like Bacchus, and I’ll fight like Mars,
The Kind I’ll love, the Cross may kiss my A--se.
In the same Room in a Woman’s Hand.
Since cruel Fate has robb’d me of the Youth,
For whom my Heart had hoarded all its Truth,
I’ll ne’er love more, dispairing e’er to find,
Such Constancy and Truth amongst Mankind.
Feb. 18, 1725.