But what the Lover tipp’d with Diamond makes.
At Launder’s Coffee-House, in the Old Play-House Passage.
Dear Pat, ’tis vain to patch or paint,
Since still a fragrant Breath you want;
For though well furnish’d, yet all Folks
Despise a Room whose Chimney smokes.
White-Hart at Watford.
Parody of four Lines of Dryden.
Glass with a Diamond does our Wit betray;
Who can write sure on that smooth slippery Way?