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Each, when his ruftic pains began,
To merit pleaded equal right;
'Twas only who left off at noon,

Or who went on to work till night.
But coronets we owe to crowns,

And favour to a court's affection;
By Nature we are Adam's fons,

And fons of Anftis

by election.

Kingfale! eight hundred years have roll'd,
Since thy forefathers held the plow;
When this in story shall be told,

Add, that my kindred do fo now.

The man who by his labour gets
His bread, in independent state,
Who never begs, and seldom eats,
Himself can fix or change his fate.


LUKE Preach-ill admires what we Laymen can mean,

That thus by our profit and pleasure are sway'd,

He has but three livings, and would be a Dean;
His Wife dy'd this year, he has marry'd his Maid.
To fupprefs all his carnal defires in their birth,
At all hours a lufty young huffy is near :

And, to take off his thoughts from the things of this earth,

He can be content with two thousand a year.

* Garter King at Arms.





HY thus from the plain does my shepherdess rove, Forfaking her swain, and neglecting his love? You have heard all my grief, you see how I die, Oh! give fome relief to the swain whom you fly.

How can you complain, or what am I to say, Since my dog lies unfed, and my sheep run aftray ? Need I tell what I mean, that I languish alone! When I leave all the plain, you may guess 'tis for One.



NOW how fhall I do with my love and my pride,
Dear Dick *, give me counfel, if Friendship has any;
Pry'thee purge, or let blood! furly Richard reply'd,
And forget the coquette in the arms of your Nanny †.
While I pleaded with paffion how much I deferv'd,
For the pains and the torments of more than a year;
She look'd in an almanack, whence the obferv'd,
That it wanted a fortnight to Bart'l'mew-fair.
My Cowley and Waller how vainly I quote,
While my negligent judge only hears with her eye!
In a long flaxen wig, and embroider'd new coat,
Her spark faying nothing talks better than I.

*Mr. Shelton.


+ Mrs. Durham.






I KNOW that Fortune long has wanted fight,
And therefore pardon'd when fhe did not right;
But till then it never did appear,


That, as she wanted eyes, she could not hear;
I begg'd that she would give me leave to lose,
A thing fhe does not commonly refufe!
Two matadores are out against my game,
Yet ftill I play, and still my luck 's the fame :
Unconquer'd in three fuits it does remain,
Whereas I only ask in one to gain;

Yet fhe, ftill contradicting, gifts imparts,
And gives fuccefs in every fuit-but Hearts,



A FRENCH SONG, paraphrafed.

OFT Cupid, wanton, amorous boy,


The other day, mov'd with my lyre,

In flattering accents spoke his joy,

And utter'd thus his fond defire.

Oh! raife thy voice! one Song I afk;
Touch then thy harmonious ftring:

To Thyrfis eafy is the task,

Who can fo fweetly play and fing.


Two kiffes from my mother dear,

Thyris, thy due reward fhall be ;

None, none, like Beauty's Queen is fair,
Paris has vouch'd this truth for me.

I ftrait reply'd, Thou know'ft alone
That brightest Chloe rules
my breaft,
I'll fing the Two instead of One,

If thou 'It be kind, and make me bleft.
One kifs from Chloe's lips, no more,
I crave: He promis'd me fuccefs;
I play'd with all my skill and power,
My glowing paffion to exprefs.

But, oh my Chloe, beauteous maid!
Wilt thou the wifh'd reward bestow?
Wilt thou make good what Love has faid,
And, by thy grant, his power fhow?


Written extempore, in Lady OXFORD's Study, 1717.

PEN, ink, and wax, and paper, fend

To the kind wife, the lovely friend :

Smiling, bid her freely write

What her happy thoughts indite;
Of virtue, goodness, peace, and love,
Thoughts which angels may approve.

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A LETTER to the Honourable Lady MARGARET CAVENDISH HARLEY, when a Child.

MY noble, lovely, little Peggy,

Let this my first epistle beg you,

At dawn of morn and clofe of even,
To lift your heart and hands to Heaven.
In double beauty say your prayer :
Our Father firft,-then, Notre Pere:
And, deareft child, along the day,
In every thing you do and say,
Obey and please my lord and lady,
So God fhall love, and Angels aid ye.
If to thefe precepts you attend,
No fecond letter need I fend,

And fo I reft your conftant friend.


LINES written under the Print of Toм BRITTON the Sinall-coal-man, painted by Mr. WOOLAS TON.


HOUGH doom'd to fmall-coal, yet to arts ally'd, Rich without wealth, and famous without pride; Mufick's beft patron, judge of books and men, Belov'd and honour'd by Apollo's train : In Greece or Rome fure never did appear So bright a genius, in so dark a sphere: More of the man had artfully been sav'd, Had Kneller painted, and had Vertue grav'd.


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