The PLOWMAN's Wish to his FRIEND

Since you, whom all the World admires Wou'd know what your poor Friend requires, Some little Spot of Earth he prays To pass Incognito his Days. Who'd venture Conscience, Ease, and Health, For empty Pleasures, useless Wealth? Who'd be the tawdry Fool of War, Or the more noisy Knave at Bar? That might in his own Fields and Wood, Find his Diversion, and his Food. His Ponds with various Fishes stor'd, The Bees for him their Honey hoard. A Nut-brown LASS both kind and neat To make his Bed, and dress his Meat. He that hates me, or likes not this, May he ne'er know so sweet a Bliss. But fool'd with Riches, or Renown, Still stay behind, and rot in Town.