He upbraids and threatens the Avarice of Neæra, and resolves to quit her.

Should Jove descend in Floods of liquid Ore,
And golden Torrents stream from every Part,
That craving Bosom still wou'd heave for more,
Not all the Gods cou'd satisfy thy Heart:
But may thy Folly, which can thus disdain
My honest Love, the mighty Wrong repay,
May Midnight Fire involve thy sordid Gain,
And on the shining Heaps of Rapine prey:
May all the Youths, like me, by Love deceiv'd,
Not quench the Ruin, but applaud the Doom,
And, when thou dy'st, may not one Heart be griev'd,
May not one Tear bedew the lonely Tomb.
But the deserving, tender, generous Maid,
Whose only Care is her poor Lover's Mind,
Tho' ruthless Age may bid her Beauty fade
In every Friend to Love, a Friend shall find:
And, when the Lamp of Life will burn no more,
When dead she seems as in a gentle Sleep,
The pitying Neighbour shall her Loss deplore,
And round the Bier assembled Lovers weep:
With flowry Garlands, each revolving Year
Shall strow the Grave where Truth and Softness rest,
Then Home returning drop the pious Tear,
And bid the Turf lye easy on her Breast.