My drowsy Muse an idle jade!
Has grieved and sadly (sorely) vex’d me,
She sure forgets her rhyming trade
Or else for spite perplex’d me;
For well she knew for spritely Nell
I wou’d have penn’d a sonnet,
But envious as a mortal belle
She is, depend upon it.
For though I call’d her up at seven
Madam ne’er rose till past eleven
And then in such a pouting mood
I found she do my verse no good
Vexatious that each flowret fair
I wish’d for Nelly to entwine
Should thus have vanish’d into air
And cheated my sweet Valentine.