Curse On All Laws But Those Which

Then Marble, Soften'd Into Life, Grew Warm.

Whether The Darken'd Room To Muse Invite, Or Whiten'd Wall Provoke The Skew'r To Write; In Durance, Exile, Bedlam, Or The Mint, Like Lee Or Budgel I Will Rhyme And Print.

You Eat, In Dreams, The Custard Of The Day.

What Nature Wants, Commodious Gold Bestows; 'tis Thus We Cut The Bread Another Sows.

Devotion's Self Shall Steal A Thought From Heaven.