As ladies mostly are, be very willing.
I bid you cease, for into debt 't will run ye,
Do you no good, but spend your husband's money.

Husbands are fools who let their wives do so,--
I scarce can pity when I see them ruin'd.
For when they squander all, they ought to know,
Destruction is a consequence pursuant.
When each has turn'd his home into a sad-house,
He then finds out that he deserves a mad-house.

I do denounce, in all the songs you sing,
The words, _sweet_, _lovely_, dear angelic charmer,
_Flames_, _darts_, _sighs_, _wishes_, _hopes_,--they only bring
Thoughts to a lady which perchance may harm her.
You therefore must consider as ironic
Every expression which is not Platonic.

The whole poem is written in a droll, satirical strain, and shows a
great familiarity with the topics of ancient and modern literature. The
rest of the volume consists of translations from Anacreon, Horace, and
other Greek and Latin poets, and many original pieces; one of which
latter, entitled "The Prodigal Son," thus gravely and impressively
opens,--

Far from his kindred, from his country's soil,
By want enfeebled, and oppress'd by toil,
Compelled with slow reluctance to demand
The niggard pity of a stranger's hand,
And forced, in silent anguish, to abide