BALLAD. (Sure 'ent the world a masquerade)

Sure 'ent the world a masquerade, Wid shrugs and queer grimaces, Where all mankind a roaring trade Drive underneath bare faces?

Pray don't the lover, let me ask, Hid by a fascine battery, Steal hearts away? and what's his mask? To be sure it is not flattery.

Then join the general masquerade, That men and manners traces, To be sure the best masks dat are made For cheating 'ent bare faces.

Weigh yonder lawyer—I'll be bail, So able are his talents, The devil himself, in t' other scale, Would quickly kick the balance.

See that friar to a novice preach, To holiness to win her; Their masks dropt off, what are they each? He a taef and she a sinner.

To be sure they 'ent, &c.

For her husband see you widow cry, She'll never have another; By my soul she weeps wid but one eye, For she's leering wid the tother.

You courtier see, who, in a crack, Will promise fifty places, By my soul his friends scarce turn their back But he laughs before their faces.

To be sure he don't, &c.