By me, wha had not the least dread
An act would knock it on the head:
A playhouse new, at vast expense,
To be a large, yet bien defence,
In winter nights, ’gainst wind and weet,
To ward frae cauld the lasses sweet;
While they with bonny smiles attended,
To have their little failings mended.’
He asks if he who has written with the approbation of the entire country, shall be confounded with rogues and rascals, be twined of his hopes, and
‘Be made a loser, and engage