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For he is one too, or would be;
But he drinks no wine,
Which is a fhrewd fign
That all's not fo well as it should be.
These three, when they drink,
Not old with their years,
Nor cold with their fears;
But their angry ftars ftill defying.
Mirth makes them not mad,
Nor fobriety fad ;
But of that they are feldom in danger;
At the Hague they 're at home;
TO SIR JOHN MENNIS, Being invited from Calais to Bologne, to eat a Pig.
ALL on a weeping Monday,
With a fat Bulgarian floven,
To Bologne is gone,
Whom I think they call old Loven.
Hadft thou not thy fill of carting,
When nofe lay in breech,
So often cry'd a pox on?
A knight by land and water
Thou might'st have ta'en example,
On an ambling tit
As thy predeceffor Dory.
But oh! the roof of linen,
Intended for a fhelter !
But the rain made an ass
Of tilt and canvas ;
And the fnow which you know is a melter.
But with thee to inveigle
That tender stripling Astcot,
Who was foak'd to the skin,
Through drugget fo thin,
Having neither coat nor waistcoat.
He being proudly mounted,
For thief without grace,
That goes to make a wry mouth.
Nor did he like the omen,
For fear it might be his doom
One day for to fing,
With gullet in ftring,
---A hymn of Robert Wisdom.
But what was all this bufinefs?
For who rides i' th' wet
When affairs are not great,
The neighbours make but a sport on't.
To a goodly fat fow's baby,
That day fure was thine,
"HAT gives us that fantastic fit,
To vulgar cuftom we fubmit?
Treafon, theft, murder, and all the reft
Why is it then thought fin or fhame,
From whence we went, and whence we came ?
Nature, whate'er she wants, requires ;
Death she abhors; yet when men die,
Forbidden wares fell twice as dear;
A most abominable rate did bear.
'Tis plain our eyes and ears are nice,
Thus reafon's fhadows us betray,
SARPE DON's Speech to GLAUCUS, in the Twelfth Book of Homer.
THUS to Glaucus fpake
Divine Sarpedon, fince he did not find
Others, as great in place, as great in mind.
Our flock, our herds, and our poffeffions more?
Why all the tributes land and fea affords
Heap'd in great chargers, load our sumptuous boards?
Of the rich grape, whilst musick charms their ears.
We stand the firft; that when our Licians fee
Or if death fought not them who feek not death,