Let thy weak wilful Head, unrein’d by Art,
Obey the Dictates of thy flatt’ring Heart;
Divide a busy, fretful Life between
Smut, Libel, Sing-song, Vanity, and Spleen;
With long-brew’d Malice warm thy languid Page,
And urge delirious Nonsense into Rage;
Let bawdy Emblems, now, thy Hours beguile;
Now, Fustian Epic, aping Virgil’s Stile;
To Virgil like, to Indian Clay as Delf,
Or Pulteney, drawn by Jervase, to Herself: