Finish these langours! Oh! I'm sick br Of dying airs, I know the trick; br Long since I've learn'd to well explain br Th'unmeaning cant of fire and pain, br And see through all the senseless lies br Of burning darts from killing eyes; br I'm tir'd with this continual rout br Of bowing low and leading out. br Finish, &c. br Finish this tedious dangling trade, br By which so many fools are made; br For fools they are, whom you can please br By such affected airs as these: br At opera near my box to stand, br And slyly press the given hand, br Thus may you wait whole years in vain; br But sure you would, were you in pain. br Finish, &c.