To make her Coachman fine in a Surtoot;
Tho’ in a Garret laid, and homely Bed,
The Coach and Horses still run in her Head.
Those quell the Vapours, and those stagnant Fumes,
Which, as ’tis said, for want of Motion comes;
For Hippo will in some so strongly fix
It can’t be cur’d without a Coach and six;
Whose swift career whirls with such force about,
It drives gymnastickly the Vapour out;
Seldom to Park the good-natured Ninny drives,