The weary Dean goes to his Chamber,
And Nim and Dan to Garret clamber.
So when the Circle we have run,
The Curtain falls, and we have done.
I might have mention'd fev'ral Facts,
Like Episodes between the Acts;
And tell who lofes, and who wins,
Who gets a Cold, who breaks his Shins;
How Dan caught nothing in his Net;
And how the Boat was over-set :
For Brevity I have retrench'd,

How in the Lake the Dean was drench'd:
It would be an Exploit to brag on,
How valiant George rode o'er the Dragen,
How fteddy in the ftern he fat,

And fav'd his Oar, but loft his Hat:
How Nim (no Hunter e'er could match him,)
Still brings us Harcs, when he can catch 'em i
How fkilfully Dan mends his Nets;
How Fortune fails him, when he fets
Or how the Dean delights to vex
The Ladies, or lampoon the Sex:
Or how our Neighbour lifts his Nofe
To tell what ev'ry School-boy knows,
Then with his Finger on his Thumb
Explaining, ftrikes Oppofures dumb :
Or how his Wife, that Female Pedant,
(But now there need no more be faid on't)
Shews all her Secrets of House-keeping;
For Candles how the trucks her Dripping :
Was forced to fend three Miles for Yelt
To brew her Ale, and raife her Paste ;

Tells

Tells ev'ry thing, that you can think of;
How the cur'd Tommy of the Chin-cough;
What gave her Brats and Pigs the Meazles,
And how her Doves were kill'd by Weezles;
How Jowler howl'd, and what a Fright
She had with Dreams the other Night.
But now, fince I have gone fo far on,
A Word or two of Lord Chief Baron:
And tell how little Weight he sets
On all Whig Papers, and Gazetts ;
But for the Politicks of Pue*
Thinks ev'ry Syllable is true:

And fince he owns, the King of Sweden
Is dead at last, without evading,
Now all his Hopes are in the Czar ;
"Why, Muscovy is not fo far,

"Down the Black Sea and up the Streights,
"And in a Month he's at your Gates;
"Perhaps, from what the Packet brings,
"By Christmas we shall see strange things."
Why should I tell of Ponds and Drains,
What Carps we met with for our Pains;
Of Sparrows tam'd, and Nuts innumerable
To choak the Girls, and to confume-a-Rabble.
But You, who are a Scholar, know
How tranfient are all things below,
How prone to change is human Life.
Laft Night arriv'd Clem. and his Wife---

*A News-Writer.

This

This grand Event half broke our Measures;
Their Reign began with cruel Seizures;
The Dean muft with his Quilt fupply
The Red, in which these Tyrants lie
Nin loft his Wig-Block, Dan his Jordar,
(My Lady fays the can't afford one)
George is half fcar'd out of his Wits,
For Clem. gets all the dainty Bits.
Henceforth expect a diff'rent Survey,
This Houfe will foon turn topsy-turvy :
They talk of further Alterations,
Which caufes many Speculations.

A Paftoral Dialogue.

DERMOT, SHEELAH.

A Nymph and Swain, Sheelab and Dermot

hignt,

Who want to weed the Court of Gosford
Kaight,

While each with ftubbed Knife remov'd the

Roors,

That rais'd between the Stones their daily Shoots;

As at their Work they fat in counterview, With mutual Beauty limit, their Paffion grow. Sing heavenly Mufe in tweetly flowing Strain The foft Endearments of the Nymph and Swain.

DERMOT

DERMOT.

My Love to Sheelab is more firmly fixt Than strongest Weeds, that grow these Stones betwixt :

My Spud these Nettles from the Stones can

part,

No Knife fo kecn to weed thee from my Heart.

SHEELA H.

My Love for gentle Dermot fafter grows Than yon tall Dock, that rises to thy Nose. Cut down the Dock, 'twill sprout again; but

O!

Love rooted out, again will never grow.

DERMO T.

No more that Bry'r thy tender Legs fhall

rake

(I fpare the Thistle for Sir Arthur's Sake.) Sharp are the Stones, take thou this rufhy Matt; The hardest Bum will bruize with fitting fquat.

SHEELA H.

Thy Breeches torn behind stand gaping wide ;

This Petticoat fhall fave thy dear Back-side; Nor need I blush, although you feel it wet; Dermot, I vow, 'tis nothing else but Sweat.

DERMOT.

DERMOT.

At an old stubborn Root I chanc'd to tug, When the Dean threw me this Tobacco Plug: A longer half-porth never did I see; This, dearest Sheelab, thou fhalt share with me.

SHEELA H.

In at the Pantry door this Morn I flipt, And from the Shelf a charming Cruft I whipt; Dennis was out, and I got hither fafe; And thou, my Dear, fhalt have the bigger half,

DERMOT.

When you faw Tady at long Bullets play, You fat and lows'd him all the Sunshine Day. How could you, Sheelah, liften to his Tales, Or crack fuch Lice as his between your Nails?

SHEELA H.

When you with Oonah stood behind a Ditch, I pecp'd and faw you kifs the dirty Bitch. Dermot, how could you touch those nafty Sluts? I almost wifh'd this Spud were in your Guts.

DERMO T.

If Oonab once I kiss'd, forbear to chide ; Her Aunt's my Gothip by ray Father's Side: But, if I ever touch her Lips again,

May I be doom'd for Lite to weed in Rain.

SHEELAH.