What Toil did honest  take?
What strict Enquiries did He make,
To get one Medal wanting yet,
And perfect all his  Sett?
'Tis found: and O his happy Lot!
'Tis bought, lock'd up, and lies forgot:
Of These no more You hear Him speak:
He now begins upon the .
These rang'd and show'd, shall in their Turns
Remain obscure, as in their Urns.
My Copper-Lamps at any Rate,
For being True Antique, I bought;
Yet wisely melted down my Plate,
On Modern Models to be wrought:
And Trifles I alike pursue;
Because They're Old; because They're New.