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But let it not the rights of love invade.
Let us enjoy this privilege at least,
That if we must be poor, we may with love be bless'd:
For now-a-days there's not a dame in town
So coy, but if you've money she's your own.
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What tho' her keeper may an Argus be ?
Blind him with money, and he'll nothing see.
What though her husband should by chance be by?
He'll leave the house, let you your money fly.
If there's a god above, to whom belongs
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The cause of love, and slighted lovers wrongs,
Revenge the false one's mercenary scorn,
And let ill-gotten pelf to dirt return.