For Faith what you’ve wrote has no Charm in’t;
You often have try’d me, and know I am sound,
Then prithee now where was the Harm in’t?
You did me a favour, I did you one too,
And, if I’m not mistaken, a greater;
I’ll swear I can’t love the Sport better than you,
So pray say no more of the Matter.
In a Bog-House, at the Bush at Carlisle, 1718.
Reader,
Within this Place two Ways I’ve been delighted;