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He was the only person of his time,
Who could cheat without the mask of HONESTY,

Retain his primeval meanNESS
When possess'd of TEN THOUSAND a-year ;
And having daily deserved the GIBBET for what he did,
Was at last condemned to it for what he could not do.

Oh indignant reader!
Think not his life useless to mankind !
PROVIDENCE conniv'd † at his execrable designs,

To give to after ages
A conspicuous Proof and examPLE,
Of how small estimation is EXORBITANT WEALTH

In the sight of GOD,
By his bestowing it on the most UNWORTHY of ALL


Joannes jacet bic Mirandula -Catera norunt
Et Tagus et Ganges---for an et Antipodes.

ERE Francis Chartres lies be civil!

The rest God knows—perhaps the devil.



PETER complains that God has given

To his poor babe a life fo short : Confider, Peter, he's in heaven ;

'Tis good to have a friend at court.

* A N O T H E R.

You beat your pate, and fancy wit will come ; Knock as you please, there's no body at home.

Ε Ρ Ι. | See vol, iv. p. 7.


ELL then, poor G-lies ander ground !

So there's an end of honeft Jack. So little justice here he found,

'Tis ten to one he'll ne'er come back.

* EPIGRAM, on the toasts of the Kit-kat club.

Anno 1716.

WHENCE deathless kit-kat took its name,

Few critics can unriddle;
Some fay from pastry-cook it came,

And some from cat and fiddle.
From no trim beaux its name it boasts,

Grey statesmen, or green wits ;
But from this pell-mell pack of toafts

Of old cats and young kits.

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* To a LADY, with the Temple of Fame. WHAT's fame with men, by custom of the nation

Is call'd in women only reputation :
About them both why keep we such a pother?

with one, and I'll renounce the other.

* Verses to be placed under the picture of

ENGLAND's Arch-Poet; containing a complete catalogue of his works. SEE EE who ne'er was nor will be half read!

Who first fung Arthur †, then fung Alfred I; Prais'd


Eliza || in God's anger,
Till all true Englishmen cryd, Hang her!

of Two heroic poems in folio, twenty books. * Heroic poems in twelve books.

Heroic poems in folio, ten books.

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Made William's virtues wipe the bare a
And hang'd up Marlb'rough in arras * :
Then hiss'd from earth, grew heav'nly quite;
Made ev'ry reader curse the light ti
Maul'd human wit in one thick satire Ii
Next, in three books, sunk human nature llo
Undid creation ** at a jerk,
And of redemption tt made damn'd work.
Then took his muse at once, and dipt her
Full in the middle of the Scripture :
What wonders there the man grown old did !
Sternhold himself he out-Sternholded :
Made David 11 seem so mad and freakish,
All thought him just what thought King Achish.
No mortal read his Solomon III,
But judg'd R’oboam his own son.
Moses *** he serv'd as Moses Pharaoh,
And Deborah as the Siserah;
Made ttt Jeremy full sore to cry,
And Job 111 himself curse God and die.




What punishment all this most follow?
Shall Arthur use him like King Tollo?
Shall David as Uriah slay him ?
Or dext'rous Deb'rah Siserah him?
Or shall Eliza lay a plot
To treat him like her fifter Scot?


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* Instructions to Vanderbank, a tapestry weaver. † Hymn to the light. # Satire against wit. I of the nature of man. ** Creation, a poem, in seven books. # The Redeemer, another heroic poem, in six books. #1 Translation of all the Psalms. i Canticles and Ecclesiastes. *** Paraphrafe of the canticles of Moses and Deborah, &c. Ht The Lamentations. ## The whole book of Job, a poem, in folio.


Shall William dub his better end *?
Or Marlborough serve him like a friend?
No, none of these heav'n spare his life !
But send him, honest Job, thy wife.
Dr Swift to Mr Pope, while he was

writing the DUNCIAD.
OPE has the talent well to speak,

But not to reach the ear ;
His loudest voice is low and weak,

The Dean too deaf to hear.


A while they on each other look,

Then diff'rent studies chuse; The Dean fits plodding on a book,

Pope walks, and courts the muse.

Now backs of letters, tho' design'd

For those who more will need em, Are fill'd with hints, and interlin'd,

Himself can hardly read 'em.

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Thus, Pope t, in vain you boast your wit ;

For, had our deaf divine

* Kick him on the breech, not knight him on the shoulder.

+ A polite turn is given to this incident by Mr. Pope, in his letter to Dr Sheridan, iu vol. iv. let. 127. p. 200,

Been for your conversation fit,

You had not writ a line.


Of prelate thus for preaching fam'd

The sexton reason'd well;
And juftly half the merit claim'd,

Because he rang the bell.




An epistle from a dog at Twickenham to a

dog at court.
To thee, sweet fop, these lines I send,

Who, 'tho' no spaniel, am a friend.
Tho' once my tail in wanton play
Now frisking this and then that way,
Chanc'd with a touch of just the tip

5 To hurt your lady-lap dog-ship : Yet thence to think I'd bite


head off! Sure Bounce is one you never read of.

Fop! you can dance, and make a leg, Can fetch and carry, cringe and beg,

10 And (what's the top of all your tricks) Can stoop to pick up strings and sticks. We country-dogs love nobler sport, And scorn the pranks of dogs at court. Fie, naughty Fop ! where e'er you come, 15 To fart and piss aboat the room, To lay your head in ev'ry lap, And, when they think not of you-snap! The worst that envy or that spite E'er faid of me, is, I can bite ;

20 That idle gypsies, rogues in rags, Who poke at me, can make no brags ; And that to towze such things as flutter, To honeft Bounce is bread and butter.

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