Nor will he ever draw—I mean his rhime,
Against the sweet partaker of his crime;
Nor is he yet so bold an undertaker,
To call men fools—'tis railing at their Maker.
Besides, he fears to split upon that shelf;
He's young enough to be a fop himself:
And, if his praise can bring you all a-bed,
He swears such hopeful youth no nation ever bred.
}
Your nurses, we presume, in such a case, }