Ye limbs of the law living on little pittances,
Fertile in quibbles, tho’ barren in fees,
Yet pregnant with bother ’bout Irish remittances,
Which you mighty well know never cross the salt seas;
Leave the law’s crooked path for the straight path of pleasure,
The road to Peru is the turnpike to wealth;
And when you walk thro’ it pursuing your treasure,
Pay as you come back, when your purse is in health.
VII.
You gentlemen all in St. Giles’s gay quarter,