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S. My dearest Dove, one wife man fays,
Alluding to our present cafe,

"We 're here to-day, and gone to-morrow:"

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Then what avails fuperfluous forrow!

Another, full as wife as he,

Adds; that "a marry'd man may fee

"Two happy hours ;" and which are they?

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The first and laft, perhaps you'll fay.

'Tis true, when blithe fhe goes to bed,
And when the peaceably lies dead,

"Women 'twixt sheets are beft, 'tis said,

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(Ah, Turtle! had the been like thee,
Sober, yet gentle; wife, yet free!)

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But she was peevish, noify, bold,
A witch ingrafted on a scold.
Jove in Pandora's box confin'd
A hundred ills, to vex mankind:
To vex one bird, in her bandore,
He had at least a hundred more.
And, foon as Time that veil withdrew,
The plagues o'er all the parish flew;
Her ftock of borrow'd tears grew dry,
And native tempests arm'd her eye;
Black clouds around her forehead hung,
And thunder rattled on her tongue.

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We,

We, young or old, or Cock or Hen,
All liv'd in Æolus's den;

The nearest her, the more accurft,

Ill far'd her friends, her husband worst.
But Jove amiaft his anger spares,

Remarks our faults, but hears our prayers.

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In fhort, the dy'd. Why then fhe's dead, 410
Quoth I, and once again I'll wed.

Would heaven, this mourning year were past!
One may have better luck at last.
Matters at worst are fure to mend,

The Devil's Wife was but a fiend.

T. Thy Tale has rais'd a Turtle's fpleen,

Uxorious inmate! bird obfcene!

Dar'ft thou defile these facred groves,
Thefe filent feats of faithful loves?
Be gone, with flagging wings fit down
On fome old pent-house near the town;
In brewers' ftables peck thy grain,
Then wash it down with puddled rain;
And hear thy dirty offspring fquall

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From bottles on a suburb-wall.

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Where thou hast been, return again,

Vile Bird! thou haft convers'd with Men;
Notions like these from Men are given,

Thofe vileft creatures under Heaven.

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To Cities and to Courts repair,
Flattery and Falsehood flourish there;
There all thy wretched arts employ,

Where riches triumph over joy ;
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Where

Where Paffion does with Interest barter,
And Hymen holds by Mammon's charter;
Where Truth by point of Law is parry'd,
And Knaves and Prudes are fix times marry'd.

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APPLICATION,
Written long after the T A LE.

O dearest Daughter of two dearest Friends,
To thee my Mufe this little Tale commends.
Loving and lov'd, regard thy future mate,
Long love his perfon, though deplore his fate;
Seem young when old in thy dear husband's arms,
For conftant Virtue has immortal charms.
And, when I lie low fepulchred in earth,
And the glad year returns thy day of birth,
Vouchsafe to say, "Ere I could write or spell,
"The bard, who from my cradle wish'd me well,
"Told me I should the prating Sparrow blame,
"And bad me imitate the Turtle's flame."

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*Lady Margaret Cavendish Harley, daughter of Edward earl of Oxford, and afterwards Duchefs of Portland.

DOWN

DOWN-HALL: A BALLAD.

To the Tune of, King JOHN and the Abbot of

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CANTERBURY, 1715.

SING not old Jason, who travel'd through Greece, To kifs the fair Maids, and poffefs the rich Fleece; Nor fing I Æneas, who, led by his mother,

Got rid of one Wife, and went far for another.

Derry down, down, hey derry down.

Nor him who through Afia and Europe did roam, Ulyffes by name, who ne'er cry'd to go home, But rather defir'd to fee cities and men,

Than return to his farms, and converfe with old Pen.

Hang Homer and Virgil! their meaning to feek, A man must have pok'd into Latin and Greek; Those who love their own tongue, we have reason to hope, · Have read them tranflated by Dryden and Pope.

But I fing of exploits that have lately been done By two British Heroes, call'd Matthew and John *: And how they rid friendly from fine London town, Fair Effex to fee, and a place they call Down.

*Mr. Prior, and Mr. John Morley of Halstead.

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Now ere they went out you may rightly suppose How much they difcours'd both in prudence and profe; For, before this great journey was throughly concerted, Full often they met, and as often they parted.

And thus Matthew faid, Look you here, my friend John, I fairly have travel'd years thirty-and-one ; And, though I still carry'd my Sovereign's warrants, I only have gone upon other folks errands.

And now in this journey of life I would have A place where to bait, 'twixt the court and the grave; Where joyful to live, not unwilling to die— Gadzooks! I have just such a place in my eye.

There are gardens fo ftately, and arbours so thick, A portal of stone, and a fabrick of brick :

The matter next week fhall be all in your power; But the money, gadzooks! must be paid in an hour.

For things in this world must by law be made certain: We both must repair unto Oliver Martin;

For he is a Lawyer of worthy renown

I'll bring you to fee, he must fix you at Down.

Quoth Matthew, I know, that, from Berwick to Dover, You've fold all our premiffes over and over : And now, if your buyers and fellers agree, You may throw all our acres into the South Sea.

But a word to the purpofe: to-morrow, dear friend, We'll fee, what to-night you fo highly commend; And, if with a garden and house I am bleft, Let the Devil and Coningsby go with the reft.

Then

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