EDWIN'S PILLS, &c, SONG

Let the Sultan's wanton care, Thousands of the sex prepare, Gentle, frisking, pretty lasses, Young and handsome as the graces; Let him kiss them one and all, What then, what then?

This concerns not me at all. For like ev'ry thirsty soul, I prefer the flowing bowl. Let the noble Duke or Peer, Sell his thousand pounds a year, Let him quit his grass and stubble, He'll soon find that life's a bubble; Let him rise, or let him fall, What then, &c.

Let the valiant soldier go, Seeking dangers to and fro; Let him when the trumpets rattle, Brave the foremost of the battle, Honour fears nor sword nor ball, What then, &c.