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The children that he keeps, Giles swears are none Of his begetting; and so swears his Joan.

In all affections she concurreth still:

If now, with man and wife, to will and nill
The self-same things, a note of concord be.
I know no couple better can agree.

AN ENDLESS TASK.

WHO seeks to please all mer. each way,
And not himself offend;

He may begin his work to day,

But God knows when he'll end.

ON COLLEY CIBBER.

WHO worst writes epigrams, and be-odes the year,
Once, quoth Apollo, shall the laurel wear;

I hop'd his godship then would not be sorry at,
Who could not write or read, if next were laureat.
He swore to the proposal to submit;
But, smiling, said,-Can ye be better fit?

INSCRIPTION

FOR A STATUE OF CUPID.

WHOE'ER thou art, thy master see!
He was, or is, or is to be.

ON MARRIAGE.

WHOEVER seals the marriage vow,
'Tis well agreed, makes one of two;
But who can tell, save God alone,
What numbers may make two of one?

NO TIME LOST.

WHY all this stir, at Myra's house?
She took, last night, a second spouse;
Then why that hatchment, friend, I pray?
Her first was buried yesterday.

THE FRUGAL VIRTUOSO.

WHY does our friend thus fill his house,
With heads of ancient sages,

Who, 'tis well known, ne'er car'd a louse
For all their learned pages?

Must I then name the cause? I will;
Our friend, to save his chink,
His house with company will fill,
Who neither eat nor drink.

ON THE DUCHESS OF GORDON Telling the Hon. H. Erskine that she would not live in a certain place because it was dull. WHY don't your Grace, said Erskine, still reside With us, in George's Square, our joy and pride? Won't you return? No, no, replied her Grace, I do not like it-'tis a vile dull place.

That is, quoth he, as if the Sun should say, "A vile dark morning this-I will not rise to day."

AGAINST AN EVERLASTING REPEATER
OF HIS OWN VERSES.

FROM MARTIAL, LIB. IV. EPIG. 81.
WHY dost thou, in a fever, friend, declaim?
Why, thou art mad, and not perceiv'st the same.
Indeed thou'rt really mad, and dost rehearse
Thy intermittent fits to me in verse.
Oh! who can wonder if thou burn and fry,
Parch'd up with so much vain loquacity!
Howe'er, be silent now, and go to rest,
Thou'lt then relieve th' oppressor, and opprest.

ON A

GENTLEMAN'S DRINKING TO THE HEALTH
OF AN UNKIND MISTRESS.

WHY dost thou wish that she may live,
Whose living beauties make thee grieve?

Q

Thou would'st more wisely wish her kind,
That she may change her cruel mind;
Thy present wish can but this gain,
That she may live, and thou complain.

TO MARCUS.

FROM THE LATIN OF OWEN.

WHY durst you offer Marcus to aver

Nature abhorr'd a vacuum? confer
But with your empty skull; then you'll agree,
Nature will suffer a vacuity.

FROM THE GREEK.

WHY, foolish painter, give those wings to Love?
Love is not light, as my sad heart can prove;
Love hath no wings, or none that I can see;
If he can fly-Oh! bid him fly from me.

FROM GUARINE.

WHY frowns my fair? The mighty bliss
Was bought with equal smart.
I rudely stole a rapturous kiss,
I paid thee-with my heart!

THE QUESTION ANSWERED.

WHY is a handsome wife ador'd
By every coxcomb, but her lord?
From yonder puppet-man inquire,
Who wisely hides, his wood and wire:
Shews Sheba's queen completely drest,
And Solomon in royal vest:

But view them litter'd on the floor,
Or strung on pegs behind the door,
Punch is exactly of a piece

With Lorrain's duke, and prince of Greece.

ON SEEING ONE BACON IN THE
PILLORY.

WHY so relentless do you pelt

With all the force you can, As if your heart no pity felt For the unhappy man.

The thrower smil'd, "Why, Sir," said he,
"The judge has felt a zest,

And thinks that Bacon best would be,
If well with eggs 'twas drest."

ON A

LADY WHO WAS OFFENDED AT BEING LEFT ALONE WITH A GENTLEMAN. WHY then that blush! allay that needless fear;

Mistaken maid-no ravisher is near!

When thou art next in danger, ask thy glass,
Wou'd any forfeit heav'n for such a face?
Whoe'er attempts thy virtue to abuse,
Offends without temptation, or excuse;
No transport to possess, or bliss to taste,
But to do penance for some follies past,
Takes in his arms pride, roughness, and disease,
And sins to mortify, and not to please;
Does his lewd arts to vex himself employ:
Has all the guilt, and yet without the joy!
Whoe'er thy chastity wou'd then molest,
Shew 'em thy face-and that will guard the rest.

UPON AULUS.

FROM OWEN.

WHY were you made a knight? because the more
Your wife might love you, than she did before:

But you mistook yourself, Sir Aulus, she
Will love herself the better, but not thee.
Former expence must double every year,
You shall have cause to call your lady-dear.

THE MEDDLER.

"WILL and Hal love their bottle." Well, Prattle,

why not?

Drink as much as they can, 'twill not make you a sot. "Phil's purse has fin'd deep for illicit amours." Well, Prattle, the damage is Philip's, not yours. "Surface revels all night, and sleeps out half the day."

Well, Prattle, his pranks will not turn your head

grey.

"Charles, ruin'd by gambling, begs alms to sub

sist."

Well, Prattle, subscribe or withhold as you list.
Be less busy, good Prattle, with others affairs!
Keep an eye to concerns of your own, and not theirs.
You're in risk of arrest, Prattle, that's your con-

cern:

None will lend you a doit, and you've no means to

earu.

Your wife's ever drunk, Prattle; that concerns you. Miss Prattle your daughter's with child-and that

too.

I could preach thus a week, did my taste so incline; But, Prattle, your scrapes are no business of mine.

ON A PERSON WHO KEPT A COACH IN
THE WOLDS OF KENT.

WILL'S horses, with Elijah's may compare,
For if he drives, it must be through the air:
Or if his jennets draw him through the mire,
They must be, like the prophets, made of fire.

TULLY'S HEAD.

WILL and John at a plumber's once happen'd to

stop,

Where a Tully's head stood in the front of the shop; Will cries out, "Oh dear that I had such a head." You have, replies John, for behold it is lead.'

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