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What coxcomb will in future times think fit
To build in love his fortune on his wit ?
Wealth now is worth, whatever 'twas of old,
And merit valu'd by its weight in gold.
With male and female, this is now the rule,
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And he that's poor, of course must be a fool.
The dame to read my am'rous verse delights,
My writings likes, but scorns the man that writes;
They freely on her privacy presume,
And find admittance where I must not come;
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Me when she does her haunted house exclude,
To them she's civil, as to me she's rude.
Me she exposes to a thousand harms,
To walk the streets, while they are in her arms.
For whom does she my passion disregard ?
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And who has intercepted my reward ?
Why is the beau with so much joy embrac'd ?
His pockets full, it seems, his coat is lac'd:
He won her with his military air
Which cheats as often as it charms the fair.
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