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Two birds may perish in one net :
Thou should't avoid this cruel field,
And forrow fhould to prudence yield.

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T. It may be fo;

"Tis fadder yet, to live in woe.

S. When widows use this canting ftrain, They feem refolv'd to wed again.

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T. When widowers would this truth disprove, They never tafted real love.

S. Love is foft joy and gentle ftrife,
His efforts all depend on life:
When he has thrown two golden darts,
And ftruck the lovers' mutual hearts;
Of his black fhafts let Death fend one,
Alas! the pleafing game is done;
Ill is the poor furvivor sped,

A corpfe feels mighty cold in bed.

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"Nor plaints revoke the will of Jove."
All muft obey the general doom,
Down from Alcides to Tom Thumb.
Grim Pluto will not be withstood
By force or craft. Tall Robinhood,
As well as Little John, is dead
(You fee how deeply I am read);
With Fate's lean tipstaff none can dodge,
He'll find you out where'er you lodge.

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Ajax, to fhun his general power,
In vain abfconded in a flower;
An idle fcene Tythonus acted,
When to a grafshopper contracted;
Death ftruck them in those shapes again,
As once he did when they were men.
For reptiles perish, plants decay;
Flesh is but grafs, grafs turns to hay;
And hay to dung, and dung to clay.

Thus heads extremely nice difcover,
That folks may die fome ten times over;
But oft', by too refin'd a touch,

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To prove things plain, they prove too much.

Whate'er Pythagoras may fay

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(For each, you know, will have his way),

With great fubmiffion I pronounce,

That people die no more than once:

But once is fure; and death is common
To Bird and Man, including Woman;
From the Spread Eagle to the Wren,
Alas! no mortal fowl knows when;
All that wear feathers firft or last
Must one day perch on Charon's maft;
Must lie beneath the cypress fhade,
Where Strada's Nightingale was laid;
Those fowl who seem alive to fit,
Affembled by Dan Chaucer's wit,
In profe have flept three hundred years,
Exempt from worldly hopes and fears,

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And, laid in ftate upon their hearse,
Are truly but embalm'd in verse;
As fure as Lesbia's Sparrow I,
Thou fure as Prior's Dove, muft die,
And ne'er again from Lethe's ftreams
Return to Adige, or to Thames.

T. I therefore weep Columbo dead,
My hopes bereav'd, my pleasures fled;
"I therefore muft for ever moan
"My dear Columbo dead and gone."

S. Columbo never fees your tears,
Your cries Columbo never hears ;
A wall of brafs, and one of lead,
Divide the living from the dead.
Repell'd by this, the gather'd rain

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Of tears beats back to earth again ;

In t' other the collected found

Of groans, when once receiv'd, is drown'd.

'Tis therefore vain one hour to grieve,

What Time itself can ne'er retrieve.

By nature foft, I know a Dove

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Can never live without her Love;

Then quit this flame, and light another;
Dame, I advise you like a brother.

T. What, I to make a fecond choice! In other nuptials to rejoice!

S. Why not, my bird?

T.

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No, Sparrow, no!

Let me indulge my pleasing woe:

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Thus

Thus fighing, cooing, ease my pain,
But never wish, nor love, again :
Diftrefs'd for ever, let me moan
"My dear Columbo, dead and gone."

S. Our winged friends through all the grove
Contemn thy mad excess of love:

I tell thee, Dame, the other day

I met a Parrot and a Jay,

Who mock'd thee in their mimic tone,
And "wept Columbo, dead and gone."
T. Whate'er the Jay or Parrot faid,
My hopes are loft, my joys are fled;
And I for ever must deplore
"Columbo dead and gone."

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S. Encore!

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For fhame! forfake this Bion-stile,
We'll talk an hour, and walk a mile.
Does it with fense or health agree,

To fit thus moping on a tree?
To throw away a widow's life,
When you again may be a wife?
Come on! I'll tell you my amours ;
Who knows but they may influence yours;

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Example draws where Precept fails,

"And Sermons are lefs read than Tales."

T. Sparrow, I take thee for my friend,
As fuch will hear thee: I descend;
Hop on, and talk; but, honeft bird,
Take care that no immodeft word

May venture to offend my ear.

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S. Too faint-like Turtle, never fear :

By

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By method things are best discours'd,
Begin we then with Wife the first:
A handfome, fenfelefs, awkward fool,
Who would not yield, and could not rule:
Her actions did her charms difgrace,
And ftill her tongue talk'd of her face :
Count me the leaves on yonder tree,

So many different wills had she,

And, like the leaves, as chance inclin❜d,

Those wills were chang'd with every wind:
She courted the beau-monde to-night,
L'affemblée, her fupreme delight;
The next fhe fat immur'd, unfeen,
And in full health enjoy'd the spleen;
She cenfur'd that, fhe alter'd this,
And with great care fet all amifs;

She now could chide, now laugh, now cry,

Now fing, now pout, all God knows why :
Short was her reign, she cough'd, and dy’d.
Proceed we to my second bride;
Well-born fhe was, genteelly bred,
And buxom both at board and bed;
Glad to oblige, and pleas'd to please,
And, as Tom Southern wifely says,
"No other fault had the in life,
"But only that fhe was my wife *."

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O widow Turtle ! every she

(So Nature's pleasure does decree)

* See "The Wife's Excufe, a comedy."

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Appears

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