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 No one will take you for a Cupid, With checks so fat and visage stupid; Leave courtship off, to drink incline, You look a sot, my Valentine; Believe me, I am not in jest, That character will suit you best, Teaze me no more with amorous letters, For know, good sir, I seek your betters.

O wear large trowsers—'tis a plan Best suits a bow-legg'd gentleman;