This play was writ in charity to you;
For such a dearth of wit who ever knew?
303 Sure 'tis a judgment on this sinful nation,
For the abuse of so great dispensation;
And, therefore, I resolve to change vocation.
For want of petticoat, I've put on buff,
To try what may be got by lying rough:
How think you, sirs? is it not well enough?
Of bully-critics I a troop would lead;
But, one replied,—Thank you, there's no such need,