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Were Virgil alive with his Phillis,

And writing another eclogue; Both his Phillis and fair Amaryllis

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He'd give up for fweet Molly Mog.

When the fmiles on each guest, like her liquor,

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Round as a hoop the bumpers flow;
I drink, yet can't forget her;
For, tho' as drunk as David's fow,
I love her ftill the better.

Pert as a pear-monger I'd be,

If Molly were but kind; Cool as a cucumber could fee The rest of woman-kind.

Like a ftuck pig I gaping stare,
And eye her o'er and o'er ;
Lean as a rake with fighs and care,
Sleek as a moufe before.

Plump as a partridge was I known,

And foft as filk my fkin;
My cheeks as fat as butter grown;
But as a groat now thin!

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Strait as my leg her shape appears ;
O were we join'd together!

My heart would be scot-free from cares,
And lighter than a feather.

As fine as fivepence is her mien;

No drum was ever tighter;

Her glance is as the razor keen,

And not the fun is brighter.

As foft as pap her kiffes are;

Methinks I tate them yet;

Brown as a berry is her hair,
Her eyes as black as jet.

As smooth as glass, as white as curds,
Her pretty hand invites :

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Good Lord how all men envy'd me!
She lov'd like any thing.

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But falfe as hell, fhe, like the wind,
Chang'd, as her fex muft do;

Tho' feeming as the turtle kind,
And like the gospel true.

-If I and Molly could agree,
Let who would take Peru!
Great as an emp'ror should I be,
And richer than a Jew.

Till you grow tender as a chick,

I'm dull as any post:

Let us like burs together stick,

And warm as any toast.

You'll know me truer than a dye,

And wish me better sped,

Flat as a flounder when I lie,

And as a herring dead.

Sure as a gun fhe'll drop a tear,
And figh perhaps, and with,
When I am rotten as a pear,

And mute as any fish.

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NEW.

NEWGATE's GARLAND;

Being a new ballad, fhewing how Mr Jonathan Wild's throat was cut from ear to ear with a penknife by Mr Blake, alias Bluefkin, the bold highwayman, as he ftood at his trial in the Old Bailey, 1725.

YE

To the tune of the Cut purse.

I.

E gallants of Newgate, whofe fingers are nice
In diving in pockets, or cogging of dice;
Ye fharpers fo rich, who can buy off the noose;
Ye honester poor rogues, who die in your shoes,
Attend and draw near,

Good news ye shall hear,

How Jonathan's throat was cut from ear to ear, How Bluefkin's fharp penknife hath fet you at ease, And ev'ry man round me may rob, if he please.

II.

When to the Old Bailey this Blueskin was led,
He held up his hand; his indictment was read;
Loud rattled his chains; near him Jonathan stood;
For full forty pounds was the price of his blood.
Then, hopeless of life,

He drew his penknife,

And made a fad widow of Jonathan's wife.

But forty pounds paid her, her grief fhall appease;

And ev'ry man round me may rob, if he please.

III.

Some fay there are courtiers of highest renown,

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Who fteal the King's gold, and leave him but a

crown:

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Some fay there are peers, and fome parliament-men, Who meet once a-year to rob courtiers agen.

Let them all take their fwing

To pillage the King,

And get a blue ribbon, inftead of a ftring.

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Now Bluefkin's fharp penknife hath fet you at ease; And ev'ry man round me may rob, if he please.

IV.

Knaves of old, to hide guilt by their cunning inventions,

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Call'd briberies grants, and plain robberies pensions;
Phyficians and lawyers (who take their degrees
To be learned rogues) call'd their pilfering fees.
Since this happy day

Now ev'ry man may

Rob (as fafe as in office) upon the highway.

For Bluefkin's fharp penknife hath set you at ease ; 35 And ev'ry man round me may rob, if he please.

V.

Some cheat in the customs, fome rob the excife;
-But he who robs both is esteemed most wise.
Churchwardens, too prudent to hazard the halter,
As yet only venture to fteal from the altar.
But now to get gold,

They may be more bold,

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And rob on the highway, fince Jonathan's cold:
For Bluefkin's fharp penknife hath fet you at eafe;
And ev'ry man round me may rob, if he please. 45

VI.

Some by public revenues, which pass'd thro' their hands, Have purchas'd clean houses, and bought dirty lands : Some to steal from a charity think it no fin,

Which at home (fays the proverb) does always begin. But, if ever you be

Affign'd the trustee,

Treat not orphans like mafters of the chancery;
But take the highway, and more honefly feize;
For ev'ry man round me may rob, if he please.

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