But let it not the rights of love invade.Let us enjoy this privilege at least,That if we must be poor, we may with love be bless'd:For now-a-days there's not a dame in townSo coy, but if you've money she's your own.What tho' her keeper may an Argus be ?Blind him with money, and he'll nothing see.What though her husband should by chance be by?He'll leave the house, let you your money fly.If there's a god above, to whom belongsThe cause of love, and slighted lovers wrongs,Revenge the false one's mercenary scorn,And let ill-gotten pelf to dirt return.