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Where a leap from above
Would soon finish his woes.
When in rage he came there,
Beholding how steep
The sides did appear,
And the bottom how deep ;
His torments projecting,
And sadly reflecting,
That a lover forsaken
A new love might get;
But a neck when once broken,
Can never be set;
And that he could die
Whenever he would ;
But that he could live
But as long as he could ;
How grievous so ever
His torment might grow,
He scorn'd to endeavour
To finish it so.
But bold, unconcern'd
At the thoughts of the pain,
He calmly return'd
To his cottage again.

1

Sir, Having lately seen some of your lucubrations filled with nothing—with verses having nothing of poetry--and letters nothing to the purpose

I was apprehensive that your paper would soon come to nothing; therefore, as I have in my time communicated some little pieces which have accidentally fell into my possession, I was willing, before you quite departed, to send you the following nothing, which was sung on Drury-lane Stage this winter, and, I believe, was never yet in print. If you should not like this nothing, you may do nothing with it; for whether laid aside, or approved of, it is nothing to

Yours,

TIM. PLAYWORD.

A BALLAD ON NOTHING.

Come hark to our ditty, which shall not be long;
For we've Nothing new, sirs, your time to prolong;
So we e'en have made Nothing the theme of our song ;

Which Nobody can deny.

Nor let the grave critic of our Nothing complain,
Though Nothing of Wit should be found in our strain;
From Nothing all know there can Nothing remain ;

Which Nobody can deny,

From this Nothing the courtier assistance must borrow,
By this he the arts of his levee goes thorough;
For a promise to-day stands for Nothing to-morrow;

Which Nobody can deny.

'Tis from Nothing young Patriots oft catch at a hint, Thunder out a bold speech, and then get it in print ; 'Tis their only misfortune that there is Nothing in't;

Which Nobody can deny. Of their purses and gold the French have been free To reward Farinelli—by this we may see Other climes are as much charm’d with Nothing as we;

Which Nobody can deny. When Ward without art a fam'd doctor is grown, When Mapp excels surgeons in setting a bone, That our doctors and surgeons are Nothing you'll own;

Which Nobody can deny.

Some Wits to the stage will their Nothing commend ;
Full of Nothing they write, and to Nothing they tend ;
So beginning with Nothing, in Nothing they end ;

Which Nobody can deny.

Mr. I am just on the verge of becoming an old maid, having entered into my thirty-fifth year, at the expiration of which I look on myself as an absolute old maid. I might put off the evil day longer by denying my age; but instead of that, I have resigned myself to such a state, and wish the rest of my sex would form their desires according to my Wish; which if you will communicate to the public, you will oblige,

Yours,

DEBORAH SPINSTER.

THE OLD MAID'S WISH.
As I grow an old maid, and I find I go down,
Nor ador'd in the country, nor courted in town,
In country or town let this still be my fate,
Not the jest of the young, nor of aged the hate.
May I govern my passion with absolute sway,

wisdom increase as my youth wears away, And good-nature attend to my very last day.

May my

Beneath an old oak, near a murmuring brook,
Without e'en a sigh on past

time
may

I look;
No love in my head, may I blame no false swain,
Nor lost in despair sing some pitiful strain ;

But still govern my passion, &c.

With the young or the old, with the maid or the wife,
Oh may. I enliven the evening of life;
Still gay without pride, and jocose without art,
With some sense in my tongue, and much truth in my heart;

May I govern my passion, &c.

May I not have one thought or desire to appear
In parties of pleasure 'mong the young and the fair;
But with grave sober dames all my wishes fulfil,
With three dishes of tea, and three games at quadrille ;

Thus govern my passion, &c.

When grown still more old (as not courted when young),
May I ne'er wish to listen to man's flatt'ring tongue;
And should some young spark for my fortune make love,
With scorn and contempt at his scheme, may I prove

I can govern my passion with absolute sway,
For
my

wisdom increases as youth wears away, Though good-nature attends to my very last day.

Without long disease may I gently decay;
And when dead, may the men of the better sort say,
Peace be with her soul, in the grave when she's laid,
Who belov'd was by all, though she died an old maid ;

For she govern'd her passion with absolute sway,
Her wisdom increas'd as her youth wore away,
And good nature attended her very last day.

These three poems, with their introductory addresses, are taken from the Universal Spectator, vol. iii. p. 134. 169. and 256.

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