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Heads down, heels over, whisked, wish'd about, No wonder if their shallow wits turn out; gigg'd by their neighbours, gull'd of all their cash Down comes Sir Giles, and lo with thundering crash, Who says that Fortunes blind? she has quicker sight Than most of those on whom her favours light; For why does she enrich the weak and vain, But that her ventures may come home again? Pass'd thro like quicksilver, they lose nor weight Nor value in their locomotive state; No step, no stay; so fast her Clients follow, Ere one mouth shuts, anothere goes to swalloe; Whilst like a conjurors ball, -- presto! begone! The pill that serv'd sir Giles, now serves Sir John.

Sir Eustace has a fair and lovely wife, form'd to adorn and bless the nuptial life; Fortunes best gift, in her best giving mood, - Sir Eustace made that bad, wch Heav'n made good; Barely allu'd her into Folly's course, Then curs'd his Fate, and sued out a divorce. Unjust at Fortune's cruelty to rail, When we make all the mis'ries we bewail. Ah gen'rous Patrons, on whose breath depends The fortune of the Muse, and as her Friends. If in your Grace, this night you shall bestow One sprig of laurel for your Poets brow, Impart to me your flattering commands And sign them with the Plaudit of your hands.