BALLAD. (In Paris, as in London)

In Paris, as in London, Vice thrives, and virtue's undone; Errors, passions, want of truth, Folly, in age as well as youth, Are things by no means rare:

But honest usurers, friends sincere, And judges with their conscience clear, C'est qu'on ne voit guere.

In Paris all things vary, Sixteen and sixty marry; Men presuming on their purse, Heirs with their estates at nurse, Are things by no means rare:

But doctors who refuse a fee, And wives and husbands who agree, C'est qu'on ne voit guere.

In Paris idle passion And folly lead the fashion; Attention paid to shew and dress, Modest merit in distress, Are things by no means rare:

But friendship in sarcastic sneers, And honesty in widows' tears, C'est qu'on ne voit guere.