Address（2 / 2）

firm as my creed, sirs, 'tis my fix'd belief,

that misery's another word for grief:

i also think—so may i be a bride!

that so much laughter, so much life enjoy'd.

thou man of crazy care and ceaseless sigh,

still under bleak misfortune's blasting eye;

doom'd to that sorest task of man alive—

to make three guineas do the work of five:

laugh in misfortune's face—the beldam witch!

say, you'll be merry, tho' you can't be rich.

thou other man of care, the wretch in love,

who long with jiltish airs and arts hast strove;

who, as the boughs all temptingly project,

measur'st in desperate thought—a rope—thy neck—

or, where the beetling cliff o'erhangs the deep,

peerest to meditate the healing leap:

would'st thou be cur'd, thou silly, moping elf?

laugh at her follies—laugh e'en at thyself:

learn to despise those frowns now so terrific,

and love a kinder—that's your grand specific.

to sum up all, be merry, i advise;

and as we're merry, may we still be wise.