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 SAY, FLIE S. AY, fire of infects, mighty Sol, Cries out) what blue-bottle alive Raife fuch a cloud of duft as I? My judgement turn'd the whole debate: Tofs up their heads, and stretch their wings. 4. From From the GREEK. GREAT Bacchus, born in thunder and in fire, By native heat afferts his dreadful fire. Nourish'd near fhady rills and cooling streams, FRAN EPIGRAM. RANK 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 feafons his whiffs with impertinent jokes. Yet fighing, he fays, we must certainly break; And my cruel unkindness compels him to speak ; For of late I invite him - but four times a week. } ANOTHER. TO John I ow'd great obligation; To publish it to all the nation : Sure John and I are more than quit. ANO L ANOTHER. YES, every poet is a fool, By demonstration Ned can show it. ANOTHER. THY nags, the leaneft things alive! I heard thy anxious coach-man say, To a Perfon 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 fhould I anfwer; fince 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 honeft Teague's,. “Quid fit futurum cras fuge quærere—” OR what to-morrow fhall disclose, FOR May spoil what you to-night propose: A BALLAD of the NOTBROWNE MAYDE. Written three hundred years fince *. A. E it ryght, or wrong, these men among on women BE do complayne; Affyrmynge this, how that it is a labour spent in vayne, To *So Frior. First printed about 1521, fays Capel. To love them wele; for never a dele thy love a man agayne: For late a man do what he can, theyr favour to attayne, Yet, yf a newe do them pursue, theyr fyrst true lover than Laboureth for nought; for from her thought he is a banyshed man. B. I say nat, nay, but that all day it is bothe writ and fayd, That womens fayth is, as who fayth, all utterly decayed: But, nevertheleffe, ryght good wytnèffe in this cafe might be layed, That they love true, and continue; recorde the notbrowne mayde; Which, when her love came, her to prove, to her to make his mone, Wolde nat depart; for in her hart she loved but hym alone. A. Than betwayne us late us dyfcus what was all the manère Betwayne them two; we wyll alfo tell all the payne, and fere, That he was in: nowe I begyn, fo that ye me anfwère; Wherfore, all ye, that present be, I pray you gyve an ere: I am the knyght; I come by nyght, as fecret as I can; Sayinge, Alas, thus ftandeth the case, I am a banyshed man. B. And 3 |