Even those Candles could no more Define
As what your Soldiers call your own Best Day
Where Valiance and Virtue steep on your Time
Then allow these Records to Sing on your Way
Which, despite, your Custom bid to Conserve
Though much of their Favours pray for his Skill
Must they sing - or dream - else wait for their Turn
If through the seine fish his own Heart to ****
Which is why, with you, must he Advertise
Your Solemn Attendance of Wild Youths meet
For Dames to know; And Fruits to Realise
His Exposed Temple un-sold on the Street.
Let your Feast rage on; Yet Folded Hands keep
When your Precious Gem his Reward will reap.