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Spring-Gardens lie shaded with verdant Trees, That nod their reverend Heads at every Breeze; Embassadors like Turks hence send Express, And Ministers of State like Devils dress— Should some wild Indian see the various Scene, He'd swear all Nations of the Earth do here convene, And take for quite reverse this medley Farce, Think Strumpers Saints, or catstick'd Beau a Mars.