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Send it next week, if you are able.
By this time, sir, you know the fable.
From this, and letters of the same make,
You'll find what 'tis to have a name-sake.

Cold and hard times, sir, here, (believe it). I've lost my curate too, and grieve it. At Easter for what I can see, (A time of ease and vacancy) If things but alter, and not undone, I'll kiss your hands, and visit London. Molly sends greeting; so do I, sir; Send a good coat, that's all; good-by, sir.

TWO RIDDLES.

FIRST PRINTED IN THE EXAMINER, MDCCX.

SPHINX was a monster that would eat.
Whatever stranger she could get;

Unless his ready wit disclos'd

The subtle riddle she propos'd.

Edipus was resolv❜d to go,

And try what strength of parts would do.
Says Sphinx, On this depends your fate;
Tell me what animal is that

Which has four feet at morning bright,
Has two at noon, and three at night?
'Tis man, said he, who, weak by nature,
At first creeps, like his fellow creature,

Upon all-four; as years accrue,
With sturdy steps he walks on two;
In age, at length, grows weak and sick,
For his third leg adopts a stick.

Now, in your turn, 'tis just, methinks,
You should resolve me, Madam Sphinx.
What greater stranger yet is he,

Who has four legs, then two, then three;
Then loses one, then gets two more,
And runs away at last on four?

EPIGRAM EXTEMPORE1

I STOOD, sir, patient at your feet,
Before your elbow chair;

But make a bishop's throne your seat,
I'll kneel before you there.

One only thing can keep you down,
For your great soul too mean;
You'd not, to mount a bishop's throne,

Pay homage to the queen.

1 This epigram is printed from a pamphlet published in 1751, entitled, "The friendly and honest Advice of an old Tory to the Vice-Chancellor of Cambridge." 8vo. from whence also is extracted the following account of the occa. sion which gave birth to it. "In the year 1712, my old friend Matthew Prior, who was then Fellow of St. John's, and who not long before had been employed by the Queen as her plenipotentiary at the court of France, came to

NELL AND JOHN.

WHEN Nell, given o'er by the doctor, was dying, And John at the chimney stood decently crying; 'Tis in vain, said the woman, to make such ado, For to our long home we must all of us go!

True, Nell, replied John; but, what yet is the worst For us that remain, the best always go first: Remember, dear wife, that I said so last year, When you lost your white heifer, and I my brown mare!

BIBO AND CHARON.

WHEN Bibo thought fit from the world to retreat,
As full of champagne as an egg's full of meat,
He wak'd in the boat; and to Charon he said,
He would be row'd back, for he was not yet dead.
Trim the boat, and sit quiet, stern Charon replied:
You may have forgot, you were drunk when you

died.

Cambridge; and the next morning paid a visit to the master of his own college. The master loved Mr. Prior's principles, had a great opinion of his abilities, and a respect for his character in the world; but then he had a much greater respect for himself. He therefore kept his seat himself, and let the queen's ambassador stand, who inmediately on his return wrote the above epigram.

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WIVES BY THE DOZEN.

O DEATH! how thou spoil'st the best project of life! Said Gabriel, who still, as he buried one wife,

For the sake of her family, married her cousin : And thus, in an honest collateral line,

He still married on till his number was nine,
Full sorry to die till he made up his dozen.

FATAL LOVE.

POOR Hal caught his death standing under a spout, Expecting till midnight, when Nan would come out, But fatal his patience, as cruel the dame,

And curs'd was the weather that quench'd the man's flame.

Whoe'er thou art, that read'st these moral lines, Make love at home, and go to bed betimes.

A SAILOR'S WIFE.

QUOTH Richard in jest, looking wistly at Nelly, Methinks, child, you seem something round in the

belly!

Nell answer'd him snappishly, How can that be,

When my husband has been more than two years

at sea?

[carried

Thy husband! quoth Dick: why, that matter was Most secretly, Nell; I ne'er thought thou wert married.

ON A FART,

LET IN THE HOUSE OF COMMONS.

READER, I was born, and cried ;
I crack'd, I smelt, and so I died.
Like Julius Cæsar's was my death,
Who in the senate lost his breath.
Much alike entomb'd does lie
The Noble Romulus and I:
And when I died, like Flora fair,
I left the commonwealth my heir

THE MODERN SAINT.

HER time with equal prudence Silvia shares,
First writes a billet-doux, then says her prayers;
Her mass and toilet; vespers and the play;
Thus God and Ashtaroth divide the day:
Constant she keeps her Ember-week and Lent,
At Easter calls all Israel to her tent;

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