The many-colour'd gentry there above,
By turns are rul'd by tumult and by love :
And, while their fweethearts their attention fix,
Sufpend the din of their damn'd clattering fticks.
Now, Sirs

To you our author makes her foft request,
Who fpeak the kindeft, and who write the best,
Your fympathetic hearts the hopes to move,
From tender friendship, and endearing love.
If Petrarch's Mufe did Laura's wit rehearse;
And Cowley flatter'd dear Orinda's verse;

She hopes from you-Pox take her hopes and fears {
I plead her fex's claim; what matters hers?
By our full power of beauty we think fit,
To damn the Salique law impos'd on wit:
'We'll try the empire who fo long have boasted;
And, if we are not prais'd, we'll not be toasted.
Approve what one of us prefents to-night;
Or every mortal woman here shall write :
Rural, pathetic, narrative, fublime,

We'll write to you, and make you write in rhyme;
Female remarks fhall take up all your time.

Your time, poor fouls! we'll take your very money;
Female third-days shall come fo thick upon you,
As long as we have eyes, or hands, or breath,
We'll look, or write, or talk you all to death.
Unless you yield for better and for worse :
Then the She-Pegafus fhall gain the courfe;
And the grey mare will prove the better horse.

The

The THIEF and the CORDELIER,

a BALLAD; to the Tune of,

King JOHN and the Abbot of CANTERBURY.

WHO has e'er been at Paris, muft needs know the

Greve,

"

The fatal retreat of th' unfortunate brave;

Where Honour and Juftice moft oddly contribute,
To eafe Hero's pains by a halter and gibbet.
Derry down, down, hey derry down.

1

There Death breaks the fhackles which Force had put on; And the Hangman compleats what the Judge but begun, There the Squire of the Pad, and the Knight of the Post, Find their pains no more balk'd, and their hopes no more croft.

Derry down, &c.

Great claims are there made, and great fecrets are known; And the king, and the law, and the thief, has his own; But my hearers cry out, What a duce doft thou ail ? Cut off thy reflections; and give us thy tale.

Derry down, &c.

'Twas there then, in civil respect to harsh laws, And for want of falfe witness to back a bad cause, A Norman, though late, was oblig'd to appear: And who to aflist, but a grave Cordelier ? --

The

The Squire, whofe good grace was to open the scene, Seem'd not in great hafte that the show should begin : Now fitted the halter, now travers'd the cart ;

And often took leave, but was loth to depart.
Derry down, &c.

What frightens you thus, my good fon? fays the Prieft; You murder'd, are forry, and have been confest. O father! my forrow will scarce fave my bacon: For 'twas not that I murder'd, but that I was taken. Derry down, &c.

Pough! pr'ythee ne'er trouble thy head with fuch fancies:

Rely on the aid you fhall have from Saint Francis :
If the money you promis'd be brought to the cheft,
You have only to die: let the church do the reft.
Derry down, &c.

And what will folks fay, if they fee you afraid?
It reflects upon me, as I knew not my trade:
Courage, friend; for to-day is your period of forrow;
And things will go better, believe me, to-morrow.
Derry down, &c.

To-morrow! our Hero replied in a fright:

He that's hang'd before noon, ought to think of tonight.

Tell your beads, quoth the Prieft, and be fairly truss'd up, For you surely to-night shall in Paradise fup.

Derry down, &c.

Alas!

Alas! quoth the Squire, howe'er fumptuous the treat, Parbleu ! fhall have little ftomach to eat ;

I should therefore esteem it great favour and grace,
Would you be fo kind as to go in my place.
Derry down, &c.

That I would, quoth the Father, and thank you to boot; But our actions, you know, with our duty must suit. The feast I propos'd to you, I cannot taste;

For this night, by our order, is mark'd for a fast.
Derry down, &c.

Then, turning about to the hangman, he said,
Difpatch me, I pr'ythee, this troublesome blade:
For thy cord and my cord both equally tie;
And we live by the gold for which other men die.
Derry down, &c.

TO

WHILS

CHLOE.

HILST I am fcorch'd with hot defire,
In vain cold friendship you return;

Your drops of pity on my fire,

Alas! but make it fiercer burn.

Ah! would you have the flame fuppreft,
That kills the heart it heats too faft,
Take half my paffion to your breast;
The reft in mine fhall ever laft.

AN EPIT A PH.

"Stet quicunque volet potens "Aule culmine lubrico, &c."

IN

SENEC.

NTERR'D beneath this marble ftone
Lie fauntering Jack and idle Joan.
While rolling threefcore years and one
Did round this globe their courses run;
If human things went ill or well;
If changing empires rofe or fell;
The morning paft, the evening came,
And found this couple ftill the same.
They walk'd, and eat, good folks: what then?
Why then they walk'd and eat again :
They foundly flept the night away:
They did juft nothing all the day:
And, having bury'd children four,
Would not take pains to try for more :
Nor fifter either had nor brother;
They feem'd just tally'd for each other.
Their moral and œconomy

Moft perfectly they made agree:
Each virtue kept its proper bound,
Nor trefpafs'd on the other's ground.
Nor fame nor cenfure they regarded :
They neither punifh'd nor rewarded.
He car'd not what the footmen did:
Her maids fhe neither prais'd nor chid: