Sour criticks time, and breath, and censures waste,
And balk you pleasures to refine your taste;
One busy Don ill-tim'd high tenets preaches,
Another yearly shews himself in speeches ;
Some sniv'ling cit would have a piece for spite,
To starve those warriors who so bravely fight,
Still of a foe upon his knees afraid,
Whose well bang'd troops want money, heart, and bread;
Old beaux, who none, not e’en themselves, can please,
Are busy still for nothing—but to tease
The young, so busy to engage a heart,
The mischief done are busy most to part;
Ungrateful wretches! who still cross one's will,
When they more kindly might be busy still :
One to a husband who ne'er dream'd of horns
Shews how dear spouse with friend his brows adorns :
Th' officious tell-tale fool (he should repent it)
Parts three kind souls that liv'd at peace contented:
Some with law quirks set houses by the ears ;
With physick one what he would heal impairs ;
Like that dark mop'd-up fry, that neighb’ring curse,
Who to remove love's pains bestow a worse.
Since then this meddling tribe infest the age,
Bear one a while expos'd upon the stage;
Let none but Busy Bodies vent their spite,
And with good-humour pleasure crown the night.
Sour criticks time, and breath, and censures waste,
And balk you pleasures to refine your taste;
One busy Don ill-tim'd high tenets preaches,
Another yearly shews himself in speeches ;
Some sniv'ling cit would have a piece for spite,
To starve those warriors who so bravely fight,
Still of a foe upon his knees afraid,
Whose swell bang'd troops want money, heart, and bread;
Old beaux, who none, not e'en themselves, can please,
Are busy still for nothing—but to tease;
The young, so busy to engage a heart,
The mischief done are busy most to part;
Ungrateful wretches! who still cross one's will,
When they more kindly might be busy still:
One to a husband who ne'er dream'd of horns
Shews how dear spouse with friend his brows adorns :
Th' officious tell-tale fool (he should repent it)
Parts three kind souls that liv'd at peace contented:
Some with law quirks set houses by the ears ;
With physick one what he would heal impairs ;
Like that dark mop'd-up fry, that neighb’ring curse,
Who to remove love's pains bestow a worse.
Since then this meddling tribe infest the age,
Bear one a while expos'd upon the stage ;
Let none but Busy Bodies vent their spite,
And with good-humour pleasure crown the night.
Sour criticks time, and breath, and censures waste,
And balk you pleasures to refine your taste ;
One busy Don ill-tim'd high tenets preaches,
Another yearly shews himself in speeches ;
Some sniv'ling cit would have a piece for spite,
To starve those warriors who so bravely fight,
Still of a foe upon his knees afraid,
Whose well bang'd troops want money, heart, and bread;
Old beaux, who none, not e’en themselves, can please,
Are busy still for nothing—but to tease;
The young, so busy to engage a heart,
The mischief done are busy most to part;
Ungrateful wretches! who still cross one's will,
When they more kindly might be busy still :
One to a husband who ne'er dream'd of horns
Shews how dear spouse with friend his brows adorns :
Th' officious tell-tale fool (he should repent it)
Parts three kind souls that liv'd at peace contented:
Some with law quirks set houses by the ears;
With physick one what he would heal impairs ;
Like that dark mop'd-up fry, that neighb'ring curse,
Who to remove love's pains bestow a worse.
Since then this meddling tribe infest the age,
Bear one a while expos'd upon the stage;
Let none but Busy Bodies vent their spite,
And with good-humour pleasure crown the night.
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