From ''Apollo’s cabinet'', vol 1 p153, 1757. :: listen to the tune (midi file)

<i>The</i> Life of a Beau. <i>Sung by Mrs.</i> CLIVE.

How brimfull of nothing's the life of a beau, They've nothing to think of they've nothing to do; They've nothing to talk of for nothing they know, Such such is the life of a beau, a beau, a beau, Such such is the life of a beau.

For nothing they rise but to draw the fresh air, Spend the morning in nothing but curling their hair, And do nothing all day but sing, saunter and state. Such, such is the life of a beau.

For nothing at night to the play-house they crowd, For to mind nothing done there they always are proud, But to bow, and to grin, and talk--nothing aloud. Such, such is the life of a beau.

For nothing they run to th' assembly and ball, And for nothing at cards a fair partner call, For they still must be beasted who have--nothing at all. Such, such is the life of a beau.

For nothing, on sundays, at church they appear, For they've nothing to hope, nor they've nothing to fear; They can be nothing nowhere who nothing are here. Such, such is the life of a beau.