Proem

Ranting topers, midnight rovers, Cease to roar your fleshly lays; Melancholy, moping lovers, No more your lapsed ladies praise.

Fix your thoughts on heavenly treasure, Let Virtue now with Wit combine; Purge your hearts from sensual pleasure, With Religion mix your wine.

Let each lovely Miss and Madam, Quit the dear joys of carnal sense, Weep the fall of Eve and Adam, From their first state of Innocence.