“The next I learnt (O melancholy tale),
“On the profession, what a foul reproach!
“That his deserts had sent him to a jail,
“Where he was dragg’d (O shame!) without a coach!
His Character.
“Vulture! the arrant’st cormorant on earth,
“At length is caught, and into Newgate thrown;
“Fair honesty disclaim’d him at his birth,
“And villainy confess’d him for her own!
“Grown old in sin, at no one crime dismay’d,