Horrid to view! retire from human Sight,
Nor with thy Figure pregnant Dames affright.
Crawl thro’ thy childish Grot, growl round thy Grove,
A Foe to Man, an Antidote to Love.
In Curses waste thy Time instead of Pray’r,
[a] And with thy Breath pollute the fragrant Air.
There doze o’er Shakespear; then thy Blunders fell
[b] At mighty Price; this Truth let Tonson tell.
Then frontless intimate, (oh perjur’d Bard!)
Thy Labours were bestow’d without Reward.