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When foes too faucily approach,

'Tis best to leave them fairly;
Put fix good horses in your coach,

And carry me to Marly.
Let Bouflers, to secure your fame,

Go take some town, or buy it;
Whilft you, great fir, at Noftredame,

Te Deum sing in quiet!”

NCE

FROM THE GREEK,

GREAT Bacchus, born in thunder and in fire;

By native heat asserts his dreadful fire.
Nourish'd near shady rills and cooling streams,
He to the nymphs avows his amorous flames.
To all the brethren at the Bell and Vine,
The moral says; mix water with your wine.

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FRANK carves very ill, yet will palm all the meats;

He eats more than six, and drinks more than he eats. Four pipes after dinner he constantly smokes; And seasons his whiffs with impertinent jokes. let lighing, he says, we must certainly break; nd my cruel unkindness compels him to speak ; or of late I invite him—but four times a week.

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TO John I ow'd great obligation ;
1 But John unhappily thought fit
To publish it to all the nation:

Sure John and I are more than quit.

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V ES, every poet is a fool,

1 By demonstration Ned can show it. Happy, could Ned's inverted rule

Prove every fool to be a poet. .

Α Ν Ο Τ Η Ε R. :
THY nags, the leanest things alive!

So very hard thou lov'st to drive ;
I heard thy anxious coachman say,

It cost thee more in whips than hay.

TO A PERSON WHO WROTE ILL, AND

SPOKE WORSE AGAINST ME.

I YE, Philo, untouch'd, on my peaceable shelf;
I Nor take it amiss, that so little I heed thee:
I've no envy to thee, and some love to myself :
Then why should I answer; since first I must read
thee?

Drunk

Drunk with Helicon's waters and double-brew'd bub,

Be a linguist, a poet, a critic, a wag ;
To the solid delight of thy well-judging club,

To the damage alone of thy bookseller Brag.

Pursue me with fatire : what harm is there in't?

But from all viva voce reflection forbear : There can be no danger from what thou shalt print :

There may be a little from what thou may'st fwear.

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THILE, fafter than his costive brain indites,

V Philo's quick hand in flowing letters writes : His case appears to me like honest Teague's, When he was run away with by his legs. Phoebus, give Philo o'er himself command ; Quicken his senses, or restrain his hand; Let him be kept from paper, pen, and ink: So may he cease to write, and learn to think.

« QUID SIT FUTURUM CRAS FUGE QUÆRERE

FOR what to-morrow shall disclose

May spoil what you to-night propose :
England may change; or Cloe stray :
Love and life are for to-day.

A B A L

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RE it ryght, or wrong, these men among on women
D de complayne ;
Affyrmynge this, how that it is a labour spent in vayne,
To love them wele ; for never a dele they love a man

agayne : For late a man do what he can, theyr favour to attayne, Yet, yf á 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 sayd, That womens fayth is, as who sayth, all utterly de

: cayed: But, neverthelesse, ryght good wytnèffe in this case

might be layed, That they love true, and continue ; recorde the nota

browne mayde ;
* So Prior.–First printed about 1521, says Capel.

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 dyscus what was all the

manère
Betwayne them two; we wyll also tell all the payne,

and fere, That she was in: nowe I begyn, so that ye me an

swère ; Wherfore, all ye, that present be, I pray you gyve an

ere :I am the knyght; I come by nyght, as secret as I can; Sayinge, Alas, thus ftandeth the case, I am a banyshed man.

B.
And I your wyll for to fulfyll in this wyll nat refuse ;
Trustynge to fhewe in wordes fewe, that men have an

yll use (To theyr own shame) women to blame, and causelesse

them accuse : Therfore to you I answere nowe, all women to excuse; Myne owne hart dere, with you what chere? I pray

you, tell anone; For, in my mynde, of all mankynde I love but you

alone.

A.

It standeth so; a dede is do, whereof grete harme shall

growe; My destiny is for to dy a shamefull deth, I trowe ;

Or,

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