Death, ere thou hast killed another,
Fair, and learned, good as she,
Time shall throw his dart at thee.
To a bad Fiddler.
Old Orpheus played so well he moved old Nick,
Whilst thou mov’st nothing but thy fiddle-stick.
Written on a Glass with the Earl of Chesterfield’s diamond pencil.
Accept a miracle instead of wit;
See two dull lines by Stanhope’s pencil writ.
The real Affliction.