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TRUTH TOLD A T L A S T.
AYS Pontius in rage, contradicting his wife,
life.” Vext Pontia no way could this thesis allow, “ You’re a Cuckold, says she; do I tell you truth now?"
Written in Lady Howe's Ovid's Epistles.
However great the dying lover's care,
Α Ν E P I S T L E,
Pray, good Lord Harley, let Jonathan know,
Α Ν Ο Τ Η Ε R EPIST L E.
Pray, Lady Harriot, the time to assign
When she shall receive a turkey and chine ; • That a body may come to St. James's, to dine.
T R U E’s E P I T A P H.
Our mouldering ashes from the grave,
His prudence and his wit were seen
His faith and truth all Whitehall knows,
E P I G R A M.
betters. How happend it then that the packets were lost: These were Knights of the Garter, not Knights of the Poft. 7
THE VICEROY, A BALLAD.
To thc Tune of, Lady ISABELLA's Tragedy.
Who heretofore did reign
And in a ditty plain.
For reasons you shall hear ;
And covetous withal ;
But guiltless men enthral.
Would curse and dogmatize;
Gold he did idolize.
Who could no longer bear
Against him did declare.
Of his enormous crimes,
In low, but faithful rhymeș. * Lord Coningsby, one of the lords justices of Ireland. + The Earl of Bellamont impcached Coningsby.
The articles recorded stand,
Against this peerless peer,
You 'll find them written there.
His treasons to you all,
(And figh poor Gaphny's fall). That traiterously he did abuse
The power in him repos'd ; And wickedly the same did use,
On all mankind impos’d. That he, contrary to all law,
An oath did frame and make, Compelling the militia
Th' illegal oath to take.
He did exact and force
Than Papist us’d them worse.
The camp at Limerick,
Though many men were fick.
For licences should pay,
And fled the camp away.
By which provisions were so fcant,
That hundreds there did die,
Nor famine could they fly.
He could not hear or fee;
Without relief, pardie.
By word of mouth did he,
The Farmer's fate decree :
Straitway should hanged be;
Yet Nero judge would be.
The bourreau did his worst;
And left his judge accurft.
Unhappy Gaphny fell,
As truly it might well.
poor man's real estate, He settled on his favourite dear,
And Culliford can say ’t.