TIME's ADDRESS TO PLUTUS and CUPID. By Way of APPLICATION

'Tis I who measure vital Space, And deal out Years to human Race. Tho' little priz'd and seldom sought, Without me Love and Gold are nought; By me all useful Arts are gain'd, Wealth, Learning, Wisdom is attain'd; So subtle and so swift I fly, Loves not more fugitive than I. How heedless then are Mortals grown; How little is their Int'rest known; In ev'ry View they ought to mind me; For when once lost they never find me.