AIR I.
[In dressing, dancing, visits—play]
[I]
In dressing, dancing, visits—play,
We rout all night, and rake all day;
While mean mechanics carp and coil,
And waste their lives in weary toil.
Love's raptur'd rites are secret joys,
Profan'd by sots—and babbling boys;
With prittling, prattling, all day long,
Most dance to the echo—of their tongue.
II
The longest life is but a span,
Let's make the most of ours we can;
For court, assemblies, Park—that chace,
Pray leave for foplings to embrace,
Themselves to shew—then hark away
To join the statesman that's in play;
While, prittling, prattling, all day long,
We dance to the echo of our tongue.
