I.

_What Life can compare with the jolly Town-Rake’s, When in Youth his full Swing of all Pleasure he takes? At Noon, he gets up, for a Whet, and to dine, And wings the dull Hours with Mirth, Musick and Wine; Then jogs to the _Play-house_, and chats with the Masks, And thence to the _Rose_, where he takes his three Flasks. There, great as a _Cæsar_, he revels, when drunk, And scours all he meets, as he reels to his Punk; Then finds the dear Girl in his Arms when he wakes. What Life can compare with the Jolly Town-Rake’s?_