UPON PLAYING AT OMBRE WITH TWO LADIE S. I KNOW that Fortune long has wanted fight, That, as she wanted eyes, she could not hear; Yet fhe, ftill contradicting, gifts imparts, CUPID'S PROMISE, A FRENCH SONG, paraphrased. SOFT OFT Cupid, wanton, amorous boy, In flattering accents spoke his joy, Oh! raise thy voice! one Song I ask; To Thyrfis easy is the task, Who can fo fweetly play and fing. Two Two kiffes from my mother dear, Thyrfis, thy due reward shall be ; I ftrait reply'd, Thou know'ft alone If thou 'It be kind, and make me bleft. TO THE EARL OF OXFORD. Written extempore, in Lady OXFORD's Study, 1717. PEN, ink, and wax, and paper, fend To the kind wife, the lovely friend: Smiling, bid her freely write What her happy thoughts indite; A LETTER to the Honourable Lady MARGARET CAVENDISH HARLEY, when a Child. MY noble, lovely, little Peggy, Let this my first epistle beg you, At dawn of morn and close of even, No fecond letter need I fend, And fo I reft your conftant friend. LINES written under the Print of Toм BRITTON the Small-coal-man, painted by Mr. WOOLASTON. THO HOUGH doom'd to small-coal, yet to arts ally'd, Rich without wealth, and famous without pride; Mufick's best patron, judge of books and men, Belov'd and honour'd by Apollo's train : In Greece or Rome fure never did appear So bright a genius, in so dark a sphere : More of the man had artfully been fav’d, Had Kneller painted, and had Vertue grav'd. TRUTH TOLD AT LAST. TRUTH SA AYS Pontius in rage, contradicting his wife, "You never yet told me one truth in your life." Vext Pontia no way could this thefis allow, "You're a Cuckold, fays fhe; do I tell you truth now?" Written in Lady HowE's Ovid's Epiftles. How OWEVER high, however cold, the fair, Who must not speak, and therefore cannot live? I AN EPISTLE, 1716. Pray, good Lord Harley, let Jonathan know, ANOTHER ELKANAH SETTLE. EPISTLE. I Pray, Lady Harriot, the time to affign TRUE'S EPITAPH. F wit or honefty could fave IF Our mouldering afhes from the grave, His prudence and his wit were feen He own'd the power, and lov'd the Queen. That ferving her was to be bleft.— That men are beafts, and dogs have sense ! Whom he believ'd were Mary's foes: Ne'er skulk'd from whence his fovereign led him, EPIGRAM. } } To Richmond and Peterburgh, Matt gave his letters, And thought they were fafe in the hands of his betters. How happen'd it then that the packets were loft? These were Knights of the Garter, not Knights of the Poft. |