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Les Allemans ne ce soucient pas quel vin ils boivent pourveu que ce
soit vin, ni quel Latin ils parlent pour veu que ce soit Latin.
When you with High-Dutch Heeren dine,
Espect false Latin, and stum'd wine:
They never taste who always drink;
They always talk who never think.
NORIÆ ENCOMIUM OF ERASMUS.
Is awful pomp and melancholy state,
See settled Reason on the judgment seat;
Around her crowd Distrust, and Doubt, and Fear,
And thoughtful Foresight, and tormenting Care;
Far from the throne the trembling Pleasures stand,
Chain'd up or exil'd by her stern command.
Wretched her subjects, gloomy sits the queen,
Till happy Chance reverts the cruel scene;
And apish Folly, with her wild resort
Of Wit and Jest, disturbs the solemn court.
See the fantastic Minstrelsy advance
To breathe the song and animate the dance.
Bless'd the usurper! happy the surprise !
Her mimic postures catch our eager eyes;
Her jingling bells affect our captive ear,
And in the sights we see and sounds we hear,
Against our judgment she our sense employs,
The laws of troubled Reason she destroys,
And in their place rejoices to indite
Wild schemes of mirth, and plans of loose delight.
Ox his death-bed poor Lubin lies,
His spouse is in despair :
With frequent sobs and mutual cries,
They both express their care.
'A different cause, (says Parson Sly)
The same effect may give;
Poor Lubin fears that he shall die,
His wife that he may live.'
Her eyebrow box one morning lost,
(The best of folks are oftnest crost)
Sad Helen thus to Jenny said,
Her careless but afflicted mnaid,
Put me to bed, then, wretched Jane;
Alas! when shall I rise again?
I can behold no mortal now,
For what's an eye without a brow?"
When Nell, given o'er by the Doctor, was dying,
And John at the chimney stood decently crying ;
""Tis in vain, (said the woman) to make such ado,
For to our long home we must all of us go!
“True, Nell, (replied John) but, what yet is the
worst For us that remain, the best always go first: Remember, dear wife, that I said so last year, When you lost your white heifer, and I my brown
Her time with equal prudence Silvia shares,
First writes a billet-dour, then says her prayers;
Her mass and toilet; vespers and the play;
Thus God and Ashtaroth divide the day :
· Constant she keeps her Ember-week and Lent,
At Easter calls all Israel to her tent:
Loose without bawd, and pious without zeal,
She still repeats the sins she would conceal.
Envy herself from Silvia's life must grant,
An artful woman makes a Modern Saint.
I SENT for Ratcliffe, was so ill
That other doctors gave me over, He felt my pulse, prescrib'd his pill,
And I was likely to recover.
But when the wit began to wheeze,
And wine had warm’d the politician; Curd yesterday of my disease,
I died last night of my physician.
Stet quicunque volet potens
Aulæ culmine lubrico, &c.
INTER'd beneath this marble stone,
Lie sauntering Jack and Idle Joan.
While rolling threescore years and one
Did round this globe their courses run,
If human things went ill or well,
If changing empires rose or fell,
The morning past, the evening came,
And found this couple still the same.
They walk'd, and ate, good folks; what then?
Why, then they walk'd and ate again.
They soundly slept the night away;
They did just nothing all the day:
And having buried children four,
Would not take pains to try for more.
Nor sister either had, nor brother ;
They seem'd just tally'd for each other.
Their moral and economy
Most perfectly they made agree;
Each virtue kept its proper bound,
Nor trespass'd on the other's ground.
Nor fame nor censure they regarded ;
They neither punish'd nor rewarded.
He car'd not what the footmen did;
Her maids she neither prais'd nor chid;
So every servant took his course,
And, bad at first, they all grew worse.
Slothful disorder fill'd his stable,
And sluttish plenty deck'd her table.
Their beer was strong; their wine was port ;
Their meal was large; their grace was short.
They gave the poor the remnant meat,
Just when it grew not fit to eat.
They paid the church and parish rate,
And took, but read not, the receipt;
For which they claim'd their Sunday's due,
Of slumbering in an upper pew.
No man's defects sought they to know,
So never made themselves a foe:
No man's good deeds they did commend,
So never rais’d themselves a friend.
Nor cherish'd they relations poor ;
That might decrease their present store :
Nor barn nor house did they repair ;
That might oblige their future heir.