I for this conduct had what I deferv'd; A SIMILE. DEAR Thomas, didft thou never pop Thy head into a tin-man's fhop? There, Thomas, didft thou never fee A fquirrel fpend his little rage, Mov'd in the orb, pleas'd with the chimes, But 9 But here or there, turn wood or wire, So fares it with those merry blades, They tread on ftars, and talk with gods; Still pleas'd with their own verfes' found; THE FLIE S. SAY, fire of infects, mighty Sol, (A fly upon the chariot-pole Cries out) what blue-bottle alive Did ever with fuch fury drive? Tell, Belzebub, great father, tell, (Says t'other, perch'd upon the wheel) Did ever any mortal fly Raife fuch a cloud of duft as I? My judgement turn'd the whole debate: Tofs up their heads, and ftretch their wings. From GREAT Bacchus, born in thunder and in fire, By native heat afferts his dreadful fire. Nourish'd near fhady rills and cooling ftreams, EPIGRAM. FRANK carves very ill, yet will palm all the meats; He eats more than fix, and drinks more than he eats. Four pipes after dinner he constantly smokes; And feasons his whiffs with impertinent jokes. Yet fighing, he says, we must certainly break; And my cruel unkindness compels him to speak; For of late I invite him but four times a week. T ANOTHER. O John I ow'd great obligation; ANO L ANOTHER. YES, every poet is a fool, By demonstration Ned can fhow it. ANOTHER. THY nags, the leanest things alive! I heard thy anxious coach-man say, To a Person who wrote Ill, and spoke Worfe YE, Philo, untouch'd, on my peaceable fhelf; Nor take it amifs, that fo little I heed thee: I've no envy to thee, and fome love to myself: Then why should I answer; since first I must read thee? Drunk with Helicon's waters and double-brew'd bub, Purfue Purfue me with fatire: what harm is there in 't? On the fame Perfon. WHILE, fafter than his coftive brain indites, . Philo's quick hand in flowing letters writes:: His cafe appears to me like honest Teague's, So may "Quid fit futurum cras fuge quærere OR what to-morrow fhall disclose, FOR May spoil what you to-night propose: England may change; or Cloe ftray: A BALLAD of the NOTBROWNE MAYDE. A. BE it ryght, or wrong, these men among on women do complayne; Affyrmynge this, how that it is a labour spent in vayne, |