_Dare to take_ Lille! _We only take the Air.
No, bravely, with the Pow'rs of_ Spain _and_ France,
_We will--Entrench; and stand--at a distance:
We'll starve 'em--if they please not to advance.
Long thus, in vain, were the Allies defy'd,
But 'twas ver cold by that damn'd River Side.
So as they came too late, and we were stronger,
Scorn the Poltrons, we cry'd--
March off;_ morbleu, _we'll stay for 'em no longer;
The little Monsieurs their Disgrace may own,
Now ev'n the Grand ones makes their Scandal known.

Mean while, without you half our Season's wasted.
Before 'tis_ Lent _sufficiently we've fasted.
No matter how our Op'ra Folks did fare,
Too full a Stomach do's the Voice impair._
Nay, you your selves lost by't; for saunt'ring hither
You're safe from all but Love, four Hours together.
Some idle Sparks with dear damnd Stuff, call'd Wine,
Got drunk by Eight, and perhaps sows'd by Nine,
O'er Politicks and Smoke some rail'd some writ,
The Wiser yawn'd, or nodded o'er their Wit.
O'er Scandal, Tea, Cards, or dull am'rous Papers,
The Ladies had the Spleen, the Beaux the Vapors.
Some went among the Saints without Devotion;
Nay more, 'tis fear'd went thro' a wicked Motion.
But the kind Female Traders well may boast,
When we're shut up, their Doors are open'd most.

I dare engage, they, by the Vint'ners back'd,