Absence for a Time

I Dread this tedious Time more than
A Fop to miss a Fashion,
Or the Pope's Head Tavern can
Dread the long Vacation.

This time's as troublesome to me,
As th'Town when Mony's spent;
Grave Lectures to a Debauchee,
Or Whigs to th' Government.

Methinks I almost wish 'twas torn
Out of the Rolls of Fate;
Or that some Pow'r, till his return,
Wou'd me annihilate.

But I, alas, must be content,
Upon necessity;
Since him, untill this time be spent,
I cannot hope to see.

No more than we can hope to have
The Life of perfect bliss,
Till by Afflictions, and the Grave,
We're separate from this.