"Heaven glorieth not in phizzes of dismay;

Heaven takes no pleasure in perpetual sobbing; Consenting freely that my favourite day

May have her tea and rolls, and hob and nobbing.

"In sooth, the Lord is pleased when man is blest;
And wisheth not his blisses to blockade :
'Gainst tea and coffee ne'er did he protest,
Enjoyed in gardens by the men of trade.

"Sweet is White Conduit House, and Bagnigge Wells; Chalk Farm, where Primrose Hill puts forth her

smile;

And Don Saltero's, where much wonder dwells,
Expelling work-day's matrimonial bile.

"Life with the down of cygnets may be clad; Ah! why not make her path a pleasant track? 'No,' cries the Pulpit Terrorist (how mad !): 'No; let the World be one huge Hedgehog's Back.'

'Vice, did his rigid mummery succeed,

Too soon would smile amid the sacred walls;

Venus, in tabernacles make her bed;

And Paphos find herself amid Saint Paul's.

"Avaunt Hypocrisy, the solemn jade,

Who, wilful, into ditches leads the blind; Makes, of her canting art, a thriving trade, And fattens on the follies of mankind!

"Look at Archbishops, Bishops, on a fast,
Denying Hackney-coachmen even their Beer:
Yet, lo! their Butchers knock, with Flesh repast;
With Turbots, lo! the Fishmongers appear!

"The Pot-boys howl with Porter for their bellies;
The Bakers knock, with Custards, Tarts, and Pies;
Confectioners, with rare Ice Creams and Jellies;
The Fruiterer, lo, with richest Pine supplies!

"In secret, thus, they eat, and booze, and nod;
In public, call indulgence a damn'd evil :
Order their simple flocks to walk with God,
And ride themselves an airing with the Devil."