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Now hey for Down-hall! for the guide he was got ;
The chariot was mounted; the horfes did trot;
The guide he did bring us a dozen miles round;
But oh! all in vain ; for no Down could be found.

O thou Popish Guide, thou haft led us aftray.
Says he, How the Devil fhould I know the way?
I never yet travel'd this road in my life:
But Down lies on the left, I was told by my Wife.

Thy Wife, anfwer'd Matthew, when she went abroad, Ne'er told thee of half the by-ways she had trod : Perhaps the met friends, and brought pence to thy house, But thou fhalt go home without ever a souse.

What is this thing, Morley, and how can you mean it? We have loft our eftate here, before we have seen it. Have patience, foft Morley in anger reply'd : To find out our way, let us fend off our guide.

O here I spy Down,, caft your eye to the Weft, Where a Wind-mill fo ftately ftands plainly confeft. On the Weft, reply'd Matthew, no Windmill I find : As well thou may'ft tell me, I fee the West-wind.

Now pardon me, Morley, the Wind-mill I spy,
But, faithful Achates, no house is there nigh.
Look again, fays mild Morley; gadzooks! you are blind:
The Mill ftands before; and the house lies behind.

O, now a low ruin'd white Shed I discern,
Until'd and unglaz'd; I believe 'tis a Barn.
A Barn! why you rave: 'tis a Houfe for a Squire,
A Justice of Peace, or a Knight of our Shire.

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A House should be built, or with brick, or with stone. Why 'tis plafter and lath; and I think that's all one; And such as it is, it has stood with great fame, Been called a Hall, and has given its name

To Down, down, hey derry down.

O Morley! O Morley! if that be a Hall, The fame with the building will fuddenly fall— With your friend Jemmy Gibbs about buildings agree; My business is land; and it matters not me.

I wish you could tell what a duce your head ails: I fhew'd you Down-Hall; did you look for Versailles? Then take house and farm as John Ballet will let you, For better for worse, as I took my Dame Betty.

And now, Sir, a word to the wife is enough; You'll make very little of all your old stuff: And to build at your age, by my troth, you grow fimple! Are you young and rich, like the Mafter of Wimple **?

If you have thefe whims of apartments and gardens, From twice fifty acres you'll ne'er fee five farthings: And in your's I fhall find the true gentleman's fate; Ere you finish your house, you 'Il have spent your estate.

Now let us touch thumbs, and be friends ere we part. Here, John, is my thumb. And, here, Mat, is my Heart. To Halstead I fpeed; and you go back to town. Thus ends the Firft Part of the Ballad of Down.

Derry down, down, hey derry down.

Edward Earl of Oxford.


Spoken to


In the LIBRARY of ST. JOHN'S COLLEGE, Cambridge. November 9, 1719.


INCE Anna vifited the Mufes' feat


(Around her tomb let weeping Angels wait!) Hail Thou, the brighteft of thy fex, and best,

Most gracious neighbour*, and most welcome guckt. Not Harley's felf, to Cam and Ifis dear,

In virtues and in arts great Oxford's heir;

Not He fuch prefent honour shall receive,
As to his Confort we afpire to give.

Writings of men our thoughts to-day neglects,
To pay due homage to the fofter sex:

Plato and Tully we forbear to read,

And their great followers whom this houfe has bred,
To study leffons from thy morals given,

And shining characters, imprefs'd by Heaven.
Science in books no longer we pursue,
Minerva's felf in Harriet's face we view;

*The Family Seat was then at Wimple,


For, when with Beauty we can Virtue join,
We paint the femblance of a form divine.

Their pious incenfe let our neighbours bring,
To the kind memory of some bounteous King;
With grateful hand, due altars let them raise,
To fome good Knight's * or holy Prelate's † praife:
We tune our voices to a nobler theme,

Your eyes we bless, your praises we proclaim,
Saint John's was founded in a Woman's name.
Enjoin'd by ftatute, to the fair we bow;

In fpite of time, we keep our antient vow;
What Margaret Tudor was, is Harriet Harley now.

PROLOGUE to the ORPHAN, Represented by fome of the Westminster Scholars, at HICKFORD's Dancing-room, February 2, 1720. Spoken by Lord DUPPLIN, who acted CORDELIO the Page.

WHAT! would my humble comrades have me say,

Gentle Spectators, pray excufe the play?

Such work by hireling actors should be done,
Whom you may clap or hifs for half a crown.

* Sir T. White, Founder of St. John's College, Oxon. + Archbishop Laud alfo was a generous benefactor. A few lines of this Prologue occur in another; which is printed in vol. 1. p. 74.


Our generous scenes for friendship we repeat;
And, if we don't delight, at least we treat.
Ours is the damage, if we chance to blunder;
We may be afk'd "whofe Patent we act under?'
How shall we gain you, à la mode de France?
We hir'd this room; but none of us can dance.
In cutting capers we shall never please :
Our learning does not lie below our knees.

Shall we procure you fymphony and found?
Then you must each subscribe two hundred pound.
There we should fail too, as to point of voice:
Mistake us not; we're no Italian Boys.

True Britons born; from Westminster we come;
And only speak the ftyle of ancient Rome.
We would deferve, not poorly beg, applause;
And ftand or fall by Freind's and Bufby's laws.
For the diftrefs'd, your pity we implore :
If once refus'd, we 'll trouble you no more,
But leave our Orphan fqualling at your door.





H.OH! with what woes am I oppreft!

W. Be still, you fenfeless calf!

What if the Gods fhould make you bleft?

H. Why then I'd fing and laugh :
But, if they won't, I'll wail and cry.

W. You'll hardly laugh, before you die.



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