These rooms are better far than those beneath,
A clearer Light, a sweeter Air we breath;
A decent Garden does our Window grace,
With Plants untainted, undistain'd the Glass;
And welcome Showers descending from above
In gentle Drops of Rain, which Flowers love:
In short, Sir, nothing can be well more sweet:
But, I forgot—perhaps you chuse to eat;
Tho', for my part, I've nothing of my own,
To-day I scrap'd my Yesterday's Blade Bone;