But still our Cit observ'd his time.
Returning at St. Cripple's chime,
At least as near as he was able.

But soon _she_ could not bear the sight
Of town; for walls with bow'rs unite,
As well as smoke with country breezes;
Without the keenest grief and pride
_He_ could not quit his _mares_, and _bride_:
We yield as soon as passion seizes.

The clock no more his herald prov'd;
Tuesday, nay Wednesday, morn have mov'd,
Ere trembling shopmen saw their master:
Observing neighbours whisper'd round,
That ease might do, with plenty crown'd;
If not, that ruin came the faster.

His cash grew scarce, his business still,
At variance were his books and till
(For wolves devour when shepherds slumber);
His creditors around him pour,
Seize all his horses, household store,
And only give him up the lumber!




LINES