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Easy in company, in private gay;

And what would cheer the spirits in distress, Coy to a fop, to the deserving free;

Ruins our health, when taken to excess. Still constant to herself, and just to me.

I'd be concern’d in no litigious jar; A soul she should have for great actions fit;

Belov'd by all, not vainly popular. Prudence and wisdom to direct her wit :

Whate'er assistance I had power to bring, Courage to look bold danger in the face ;

T oblige my country, or to serve my king, No fear, but only to be proud, or base :

Whene'er they call, I'd readily afford Quick to advise, by an emergence prest,

My tongue, my pen, my counsel, or my sword. To give good counsel, or to take the best.

Law-suits I'd shun with as much studious care I'd have th' expression of her thoughts be such, As I would dens where hungry lions are ; She might not seem reserv'd, nor talk too much: And rather put up injuries, than be That shews a want of judgment, and of sense; A plague to him, who'd be a plague to me. More than enough is but impertinence.

I value quiet at a price too great, Her conduct regular, her mirth refin'd;

To give for my revenge so dear a rate : Civil to strangers, to her neighbours kind;

For what do we by all our bustle gain, Averse to vanity, revenge, and pride ;

But counterfeit delight for real pain ? In all the methods of deceit untry'd :

If Heaven a date of many years would give, So faithful to her friend, and good to all,

Thus I'd in pleasure, ease, and plenty live. No censure might upon her actions fall :

And as I near approach'd the verge of life, Then would ev'n envy be compellid to say,

Some kind relation (for I'd have no wife) She goes the least of womankind astray.

Should take upon him all my worldly care, To this fair creature I'd sometimes retire ;

Whilst I did for a better state prepare. Her conversation would new joys inspire ;

Then I'd not be with any trouble vex’d, Give life an edge so keen, no surly care

Nor have the evening of my days perplex'd; Would venture to assault my soul, or dare,

But by a silent and a peaceful death, Near my retreat, to hide one secret snare.

Without a sigh, resign my aged breath. But so divine, so noble a repast

And when committed to the dust, I'd have I'd seldom, and with moderation, taste :

Few tears, but friendly, dropt into my grave; For highest cordials all their virtue lose,

Then would my exit so propitious be, By a too frequent and too bold a use;

All men would wish to live and die like me.

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She let her ivory needle fall,

I dare not permit her to come to Whitehall, And hurl'd away the twisted ball :

For she'd outshine the ladies, paint, jewels, and all: But straight gave Strephon such a call,

If a lord should but whisper his love in the crowd, As would have rais'd the dead.

She'd sell him a bargain, and laugh out aloud :
Then the queen, overhearing what Betty did

say, Dear gentle youth, is't none but thee?

Would send Mr. Roper to take her away.
With innocence I dare be free;
By so much truth and modesty

But to those that have had my dear Bess in their No nymph was e'er betray'd.

She's gentle and knows how to soften her charms ; Come, lean thy head upon my lap;

And to every beauty can add a new grace, While thy smooth cheeks I stroke and clap,

Having learn'd how to lisp, and to trip in her pace; Thou mayst securely take a nap;

And with head on one side, and a languishing eye, Which he, poor fool, obey'd.

To kill us by looking as if she would die.
She saw him yawn, and heard him snore,
And found him fast asleep all o'er ;
She sigh’d, and could endure no more,

SONG.
But starting up, she said,

Dorinda's sparkling wit and eyes,

United, cast too fierce a light, Such virtue shall rewarded be:

Which blazes high, but quickly dies,
For this thy dull fidelity,

Pains not the heart, but hurts the sight.
I'll trust you with my flocks, not me,
Pursue thy grazing trade;

Love is a calmer, gentler joy,

Smooth are his looks, and soft his pace; Go, milk thy goats, and shear thy sheep,

Her Cupid is a blackguard boy,
And watch all night thy flocks to keep;

That runs his link full in your face.
Thou shalt no more be lull'd asleep
By me mistaken maid.

SONG.

Corydon beneath a willow,
SONG.

By a murmuring current laid,
Methinks the poor town has been troubled too long, His arm reclin'd, the lover's pillow,
With Phyllis and Chloris in every song,

Thus address'd the charming maid :
By fools who at once had both love and despair,
And will never leave calling them cruel and fair; 0! my Sacharissa, tell,
Which justly provokes me in rhyme to express How could nature take delight
The truth that I know of bonny Black Bess.

That a heart so hard should dwell

In a frame so soft and white.
This Bess of my heart, this Bess of my soul,
Has a skin white as milk, and hair black as a coal; Could you feel but half the anguish,
She's plump, yet with ease you may span round her Half the tortures that I bear,
waist,

(brac'd:

How for you I daily languish,
But her round swelling thighs can scarce be em You'd be kind, as you are fair.
Her belly is soft, not a word of the rest :
But I know what I think, when I drink to the best. See the fire that in me reigns,

O! behold a burning man;
The plowman and 'squire, the arranter clown, Think I feel my dying pains,
At home she subdued in her paragon gown;,

And be cruel if you can.
But now she adorns both the boxes and pit,
And the proudest town gallants are forc'd to submit;
All hearts fall a leaping wherever she comes,
And beat day and night, like my Lord Craven's

drums.

With her conquest pleas'd, the dame

Cry'd, with an insulting look,
Yes, I fain would quench your flame ;

She spoke, and pointed to the brook.

PHILIPS-A. D. 1676-1708.

THE SPLENDID SHILLING. Happy the man, who void of cares and strife, In silken or in leathern purse retains A Splendid Shilling: he nor hears with pain New oysters cry'd, nor sighs for cheerful ale ; But with his friends, when nightly mists arise, To Juniper's Magpie, or Town-hall repairs: Where, mindful of the nymph, whose wanton eye Transfix'd his soul, and kindled amorous flames, Cloe or Phyllis, he each circling glass Wisheth her health, and joy, and equal love. Meanwhile, he smokes, and laughs at merry tale, Or pun ambiguous, or conundrum quaint. But I, whom griping penury surrounds, And hunger, sure attendant upon want, With scanty offals, and small acid tiff, (Wretched repast !) my meagre corpse sustain ; Then solitary walk, or doze at home In garret vile, and with a warming puff Regale chill'd fingers; or from tube as black As winter-chimney, or well polish'd jet, Exhale mundungus, ill perfuming scent : Not blacker tube, nor of a shorter size, Smokes Cambro-Briton (vers'd in pedigree, Sprung from Cadwallador and Arthur, kings Full famous in romantic tale) when he O'er many a craggy hill and barren cliff, Upon a cargo of fam’d Cestrian cheese, High overshadowing rides, with a design To vend his wares, or at th' Arvonian mart, Or Maridunum, or the ancient town Yclept Brechinia, or where Vaga's stream Encircles Ariconium, fruitful soil ! Whence flow nectareous wines, that well may vie With Massic, Setin, or renown's Falern.

Thus while my joyless minutes tedious flow, With looks demure, and silent pace, a dun, Horrible monster, hated by gods and men ! To my aerial citadel ascends. With vocal heel thrice thundering at my gate, With hideous accent thrice he calls; I know The voice ill-boding, and the solemn sound. What should I do? or whither turn? Amaz'd, Confounded, to the dark recess I fly Of wood-hole; straight my bristling hairs erect Through sudden fear; a chilly sweat bedews My shuddering limbs, and (wonderful to tell!) My tongue forgets her faculty of speech ; So horrible he seems! His faded brow Entrench'd with many a frown, and conic beard, And spreading band, admir'd by modern saints, Disastrous acts forbode; in his right hand Long scrolls of paper solemnly he waves, With characters and figures dire inscribid,

Grievous to mortal eyes ; (ye gods, avert
Such plagues from righteous men !)Behind him stalks
Another monster not unlike himself,
Sullen of aspect, by the vulgar callid
A catchpole, whose polluted hands the gods
With force incredible, and magic charms,
First have endued: if he his ample palm
Should haply on ill’-fated shoulder lay
Of debtor, strait his body, to the touch
Obsequious (as whilom kn hts ere wont)
To some enchanted castle is convey'd,
Where gates impregnable, and coercive chains,
In durance strict detain him, till, in form
Of money, Pallas sets the captive free.

Beware ye debtors! when ye walk, beware,
Be circumspect; oft with insidious ken
The caitiff eyes your steps aloof, and oft
Lies perdue in a nook or gloomy cave,
Prompt to inchant some inadvertent wretch
With his unhallow'd touch. So (poets sing)
Grimalkin, to domestic vermin sworn
An everlasting foe, with watchful eye
Lies nightly brooding o'er a chinky gap,
Protending her fell claws, to thoughtless mice
Sure ruin. So her disembowel'd web
Arachne, in a hall or kitchen, spreads
Obvious to vagrant flies: she secret stands
Within her woven cell; the humming prey,
Regardless of their fate, rush on the toils
Inextricable, nor will aught avail
Their arts, or arms, or shapes of lovely hue ;
The wasp insidious, and the buzzing drone,
And butterfly proud of expanded wings
Distinct with gold, entangled in her snares,
Useless resistance make: with eager strides,
She towering flies to her expected spoils;
Then, with envenom'd jaws, the vital blood
Drinks of reluctant foes, and to her cave
Their bulky carcases triumphant drags.

So pass my days. But, when nocturnal shades
This world envelop, and th' inclement air
Persuades men to repel benumbing frosts
With pleasant wines, and crackling blaze of wood;
Me, lonely sitting, nor the glimmering light
Of make-weight candle, nor the joyous talk
Of loving friend, delights; distress'd, forlorn,
Amidst the horrors of the tedious night,
Darkling I sigh, and feed with dismal thoughts
My anxious mind; or sometimes mournful verse
Indite, and sing of groves and myrtle shades,
Or desperate lady near a purling stream,
Or lover pendent on a willow-tree.
Meanwhile I labour with eternal drought,
And restless wish, and rave; my parched throat

Сс

(PHILIPS NEW ELEGANT EXTRACTS. Finds no relief, nor heavy eyes repose:

Eurus and Auster, and the dreadful force But if a slumber haply does invade

Of Boreas, that congeals the Cronian waves, My weary limbs, my fancy, still awake,

Tumultuous enter with dire chilling blasts, Thoughtful of drink, and eager, in a dream,

Portending agues. Thus a well-fraught ship, Tipples imaginary pots of ale,

Long sail'd secure, or through th' Ægean deep,
In vain; awake I find the settled thirst

Or the lonian, till cruising near
Still gnawing, and the pleasant phantom curse. The Lilybean shore, with hideous crush

Thus do I live, from pleasure quite debarr'd, On Scylla, or Charybdis (dangerous rocks !)
Nor taste the fruits that the sun's genial rays She strikes rebounding ; whence the shatter'd oak,
Mature, John-apple, nor the downy peach,

So fierce a shock unable to withstand,
Nor walnut in rough-furrow'd coat secure,

Admits the sea ; in at the gaping side Nor medlar fruit delicious in decay;

The crowding waves gush with impetuous rage Afflictions great! yet greater still remain :

Resistless, overwhelming; horrors seize My galligaskins, that have long withstood

The mariners; death in their eyes appears; (pray: The winter's fury, and encroaching frosts

They stare, they lave, they pump, they swear, they By time subdued (what will not time subdue?) (Vain efforts !) still the battering waves rush in, An horrid chasm disclose with orifice

Implacable, till, delug'd by the foam, Wide, discontinuous; at which the winds

The ship sinks founderiug in the vast abyss.

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