Thus various Joys soon waste the fleeting Night,

And Sleep and Lust the Croud to Bed invite;

Some in their Truckle-Beds to snore all Day,

Others in Gambols with their Wh——es to play;

The Dunghill Trapes, trickt up like virtuous Trull,

If by good Chance, she gets a Dupe or Cull;

On Tallyman intrudes twelve Hours more,

And for a clean Shift presumes to run a Score.

Sages may say, that Arts and Science fail,

And Ignorance and Folly have weigh'd down the Scale:

In England they have given new Arts a Rise,

And what in Science wants, increase in Vice,

And to be great as Angels when they fell,

(If not exceed) at least they equal Hell.