Safe in thy Weakness, thou defi’st a Foe;

E’en [k] Cibber’s Cudgel scorn’d to stoop so low.

The Mercy of the Law restrains thy Fears;

Coventry’s Act secures thy Nose and Ears.

Yet there remains, to fill thy Soul with Care,

A Blanket to curvet thee in the Air.

O wretched Life consum’d in restless Pains,

Where Dread of Punishment incessant reigns!

Poor Self-Tormentor! in whose gloomy Breast

The Vulture dwells, inhospitable Guest.