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With chizzled bill a spark ill-fet

He loofen'd from the reft,

And swallow'd down to grind his meat,
The easier to digeft.


She seiz'd his bill with wild affright,
Her diamond to defcry:

'Twas gone! fhe ficken'd at the fight,
Moaning her bird would die.


The tongue-ty'd knocker none might ufe,

The curtains none undraw,

The footmen went without their shoes,

The ftreet was laid with straw.


The doctor us'd his oily art

Of ftrong emetic kind,

The apothecary play'd his part,

And engineer'd behind.


When phyfic ceas'd to fpend its store,

To bring away the stone, Dicky, like people given o'er,

Picks up, when let alone.

VII. His

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Mean while within her beauteous breaft
Two different paffions ftrove;
When av'rice ended the conteft,

And triumph'd over love.


Poor little, pretty, fluttering thing,
Thy pains the fex display,

Who only to repair a ring,

Could take thy life away.


Drive av'rice from your breafts, ye fair,

Monster of foulest mien :

Ye would not let it harbour there,

Could but its form be seen.


It made a virgin put on guile,
Truth's image break her word,
A Lucia's face forbear to fmile,

A Venus kill her bird.






By the Same.

Occafioned by a Lady's faying, that none of the ancient poetical Stories reflected fo much on the vanity of Women, as that of Phaeton does on the ambition of Men.

OVE for amufement quitted oft his fkies,
To vifit earth, contracted to our fize;

And lov'd (however things in heav'n might go)
Exceedingly a game of romps below,

Mifs Semele he pick'd up, as he went,

And thought he pleas'd her to her heart's content.
But minds afpiring ne'er can be at ease;
Once known a god, as man he ceas'di to please.
In tenderest time, which women know, 'tis faid,
Thus fhe befpake the loving god in bed. Y

Thou, who gav'ft Dedalus his mazy art,
And knoweft all things but a woman's heart,
Hear my request, for fomething yet untry'd,
And fwear by Styx, I fhall not be deny'd.

Fond Jove, like men, the better to fucceed, Took any oath; then bade the girl proceed, In human guife, great Jove, leave off to rove, Deceiving woman-kind, and pilf'ring love : SVOL


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What are thofe joys, which as a man you give,
To what a god of thunder can atchieve?
Such weight of love, and might of limbs employ;
As give immortal madams heav'nly joy.

Jove came array'd, as bound by cruel fate,
And Semele enjoy'd the god in ftate:
When flaming fplendors found his beamy head.
Divinely fhone, and ftruck the mortal dead.

Faint from the courfe though we awhile retreat,
To cool and breathe before another heat ;
The gods can't know, fresh with eternal prime,
Love's ftinted paufe, nor want recruits from time;
But muft with unabating ardours kifs,

And bear down nature with excess of bliss.

Learn hence, each fair one, whom like beauties grace,

Poffefs'd of lawlefs empire by your face,

Not to do what you lift, because you may,

Let cool difcretion warm defires allay;

And itching curiofity believe,

A lurking taint deriv'd from mother Eve.

Spare then the men, ye fair, and frankly own;
Your fex, like ours, has had its Phaeton.

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WHEN I first came to London, I rambled about

From fermon to fermon, took a flice and went out

Then on me, in divinity batchelor, try'd

Many priests to obtrude a Levitical bride;

And urging their various opinions, intended

To make me wed fyftems, which they recommended.
Said a letch'rous old fry'r skulking near Lincoln's-Inn,
(Whofe trade's to abfolve, but whose pastime's to fin;
Who, fpider-like, feizes weak proteftant flies,
Which hung in his fophiftry cobweb he spies ;)
Ah pity your foul, for without our church pale,
If you happen to die, to be damn'd you can't fail;
The bible, you boast, is a wild revelation:

Hear a church that can't err if you hope for falvation.
Said a formal non-con, (whofe rich stock of grace
Lies forward expos'd in fhop-window of face,)
Ah! pity your foul: come, be of our fect:
For then you are fafe, and may plead you're elect.
As it ftands in the Acts, we can prove ourselves faints,
Being Chrift's little flock every where spoke againft.

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