The True-Born Englishman. (page 34)
The Fermentation’s of so weak a Matter,
The Humid damps the Fume, and runs it all to Water.
So tho the Inclination may be strong;
They’re pleas’d by Fits, and never angry long.
Then if Good Nature shows some slender proof,
They never think they have Reward enough:
But like our Modern Quakers of the Town,
Expect your Manners, and return you none.
Friendship, th’ abstracted Union of the Mind,
Which all men seek, but very few can find:
Of all the Nations in the Universe,
None talk on’t more, or understand it less:
For if it does their Property annoy,
Their Property their Friendship will destroy.
As you discourse them, you shall hear them tell
All things in which they think they do excel: