But His Kiss Was So Sweet, And

Envy's A Sharper Spur Than Pay: No Author Ever Spar'd A Brother; Wits Are Gamecocks To One Another.

Fair Is The Kingcup That In Meadow Blows, Fair Is The Daisy That Beside Her Grows.

What Will Not Luxury Taste? Earth, Sea, And Air, Are Daily Ransack'd For The Bill Of Fare. Blood Stuffed In Skins Is British Christians' Food, And France Robs Marshes Of The Croaking Brood.

One Common Fate We Both Must Prove; You Die With Envy, I With Love.

Lest Men Suspect Your Tale Untrue, Keep Probability In View.