One Morning (so the Fates decree)
Alone was sitting he and she:
Not yet arriv'd the roaring Band,
Nor Rake nor Coxcomb was at hand.
This blest Occasion pleas'd the Fair,
And with a mild and chearful Air,
She thus began: "My  say,
"Why this dejected Face to day?
"Why art thou always cross and dull,
"Unless the noisy Rooms are full?
"Black Discontent and Anger lies
"Close lurking in thy sullen Eyes;
"Those Eyes that I with Sorrow see
"Disgusted when they roll on me.