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The army did his early courage fee,
In Flanders, and in fertile Picardy:

He hop'd his valour would all forms remove,
And plead fuccefsfully its mafter's love.

His veft with various colours did abound, Like flowry meads when spring adorns the ground. Short was his coat, the fleeves were long and wide; Well could he fing, and treats and balls provide. His fiery steed he gracefully could fit; Love-fongs he made, not wholly void of wit; Some skill in painting too the youth had shown, Could draw a mistress, or design a town. Love o'er his gentle heart did fo prevail, He flept as little as the nightingale.

T

The Squire's Yeoman.

HIS Squire a Yeoman had, and only him, Whose truth and diligence deferv'd efteem. Girt with a belt, his garment was of green; A quiver ftor'd with arrows, bright and keen, Hung cross his fhoulders in a filken string; The feathers borrow'd from the peacock's wing.

At his left fide a weighty fword he wore,
And on his arm a well-try'd buckler bore;
A dagger, fhort and broad, was ty'd below;
His ftrong right hand sustain'd a mighty bow;
A Chriftopher his bofom did adorn;

In a fair baldricke hung his filver horn:
His fun-burnt vifage, and his grafs-green hood,
Might prove him well a ranger of the wood.

T

The Priorefs.

Here was with these a Nun, a Priorefs,
A lady of no ord'nary addrefs.

Her fmiles were harmless, and her look was coy,
She never fwore an oath but by Saint Loye.
Known by the name of Lady Eglantine:

She fung the office with a grace divine;

She spoke the French of Stratford school, by Bow;
The French of Paris (he did never know:
For French of Paris did to her appear

Strange, as our Law-French to a Frenchman's ear.
At meals fhe fat demure, carv'd meat, and well,
No morfel from her lips unfeemly fell.

She

She never dipp'd her finger in the mess;
Nor with one drop defil'd her holy dress.
With a becoming grace, and smiling eye, :
She gain'd respect from all the company..
Eafie and free, ftill plefant at her meat;
And held it no fmall pain to counterfeit;
She hated statelinefs, yet wifely knew
What fit regard was to her title due.

She pity'd ev'ry creature in diftrefs,
Devout, and charitable to excess.

Her tender heart with fuch compaffion fill'd,
She'd weep to fee a poor moufe caught, and kill'd.
Her lap-dogs ftill with her fair hands fhe fed,
With milk, and roaft meat, mixt with crumbs of bread.
In her own chamber, on her bed they slept;
If any dy'd, most bitterly fhe wept.

Well fet her wimple, nicely pinch'd it was,
Her nose was straight, her eyes were grey as glass,
Small was her mouth, her lips were red and foft,
A beauteous forehead, always born aloft,
Broad, finooth and fhining-eye-brows, neat and fmall,
A flender wafte, inclining to be tall.

A curious garment, wond'rous neat, fhe wore; A pair of beads, with green enamel'd o'er,

Of fhining coral, did her arm infold;
Grac'd with an ornament of beaten gold:
Upon it, was engrav'd a circling wreath,
And Amor vincit omnia writ beneath.

A nun, who feldom from her fight did ftir,
Her chaplain, and three priests, attended her.

N

The Monk.

EXT thefe a merry Monk appears in place,
Who follow'd hunting, more than faying mafs
As bravely mounted, as a lord from court;
No well-fed abbot bore a comelier port.
And when in ftate he ambled, all might hear
The gingling of his bridle, loud and clear,
As far, almoft, as any chapel-bell.

This lordly monk, once keeper of a cell,
Held good St. Bennet's order too fevere:
St. Maure to his nice judgment did appear
Too ftrict, and rigid; for old dotards fit,
But fcorn'd by priests of spirit, and of wit.
One fcripture text he blotted with his pen,
That fays all hunters are ungodly men.

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What

What shoals of converts would this doctrine raise ?
Shall monks in ftudy pass laborious days?
Turn o'er dull fathers, and worm-eaten books,
With dazled eyes, and melancholy looks?
Toil with their hands to make the garden neat!
Turn cooks, and baste the roaft with their own sweat?
This Austin humbly did: "Did he? (faith he,)
"Austin may do the fame again for me".
He lov'd the chafe, the hounds melodious cry,
Hounds that ran fwiftly as the swallows fly.
His fleeves I faw, with furs all lin'd within,
From Ruffia brought, the finest squirrels fkin;
(Hair-fhirts, he faid, provok'd the blood to fin.)
His hood beneath his double chin to hold,
'Twas faften'd with a curious clasp of gold,
A love-knot at the greater end there was;
His head close shav'd, and smooth as any glass.
His ftrutting paunch was feldom disappointed;
His broad, full face fhone as it were anointed.
His eyes were fleepy, rolling in his head,
That fteam'd like furnaces of molten lead.
Supple his boots, his horfe he proudly fate,
You'd take him for a bishop by his state.

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