Put my Lord Bolingbroke in mind "To get my Warrant quickly fign'd: Confider, 'tis my firft Request. Be fatisfy'd, I'll do my best : Then prefently he falls to teize; "You may for certain, if you please; "I doubt not, if his Lordship knew

55

60

65

And--- “ Mr. Dean, one Word from You--'Tis (let me fee) three Years and more, (October next it will be four) Since HARLEY bid me firft attend, And chofe for me an humble Friend; Wou'd take me in his Coach to chat, And question me of this and that ;

As, "What's a-Clock? And, "How's the

Wind?

"Whofe Chariot's that we left behind?
Or gravely try to read the Lines

Writ underneath the Country Signs ;
Or, "Have you nothing new To-day
"F-om Pope, from Parnel, or from Gay?
Such Tattle often entertains

My Lord and me as far as Stains,

60.

Si vis; potes, addit & inftat.

70

75

63. Septimus o&avo proprior jam fugerit annus, Ex quo Mecenas me cœpit habere fuorvin In numero; duntaxat ad hoc, quem tollere rhcdà

Fellet iter faciens, & cui concredere nu

80

As once a Week we travel down To Windfor, and again to Town; Where all that paffes inter nos, Might be proclaim'd at Charing Cross. Yet fome I know with Envy fwell, Because they see me us'd fo well : "How think you of our Friend the Dean? "I wonder what fome People mean! "My Lord and he are grown fo great; great; 85 "Always together, tête à tête ! "What, they admire him for his Jokes--"See but the Fortune of fome Folks! There flics about a ftrange Report Of fome Exprefs arriv'd at Court; I'm stopp'd by all the Fools I meet, And catechis'd in ev'ry Street. "You, Mr. Dean, frequent the Great; Inform us, will the Emp'ror treat? "Or, do the Prints and Papers lie? Faith, Sir, you know as much as I. "Ah Doctor, how you love to jeft? " 'Tis now no Secret. I protest "Tis one to me.- "Then tell us, pray, "When are the Troops to have their Pay?

81..

444

Subje&tior, in dicm & horam,
Invidia.

95

}

100

89. Frigidus à Rofiris manat per compita ru

nior;

Quicunque obvius eft, me confulit.

And,

Happy Life of a Country Parfón. $3 And, tho' I folemnly declare,

I know no more than my Lord Mayor,
They ftand amaz'd, and think me grown
The clofeft Mortal ever known.

105

Thus in a Sea of Folly tofs'd My choiceft Hours of Life are lost ; Yet always wishing to retreat : Oh, could I fee my Country Seat! There leaning near a gentle Brook, Sleep, or perufe fome ancient Book; And there in fweet Oblivion drown Those Cares, that haunt the Court and Town.

* The Happy Life of a Country Parfon. In Imitation of Martial.

ARSON, thefe Things in thy poffeffing
Are better than the Bishop's Bleffing.

A Wife that makes Conferves; a Steed That carries double, when there's Need:

101. Jurantem me jcire nihil, mirantur, ut

unum

Scilicet egregii mortalem, altique filenti. 108. O Rus, quando ego te afpiciam, quandoque licebit

Nunc veterum libris, nunc fomno, & inertibus horis

Ducere follicita jucunda oblivia vitæ ?

F 2

October,

October, Store, and best Virginia;
Tythe-Pig, and mortuary Guinea:
Gazettes lent gratis down, and frank'd,
For which thy Patron's weekly thank'd :
A large Concordance, (bound long fince)
Sermons to Charles the Firit, when Prince
A Chronicle of ancient standing;

A Chryfoftom to fmooth thy Band in:
The Polyglott---three Parts,---my Text---
Howbeit,---likewise---now to my next---
Lo here the Septuagint,---and Paul---
To fum the whole,---the Clofe of all.
He that has these, may pals his Life,
Drink with the 'Squire, and kifs his Wife;
On Sundays preach, and eat his Fill;
And faft on Fridays, if he will;

Toast Church and Queen, explain the News,
Talk with Church-wardens about Pews,

Pray heartily for fome new Gift,

And fhake his Head at Doctor St.

*A Tale of Chaucer, lately found in an Old Manufcript.

W

'OMEN, tho' nat fans Leacherie, Ne fwinken but with Secrecie : This in our Tale is plain y-fond Of Clerk, that wonneth in Irelond:

Which

Which to the Fennes hath him betake,
To filch the gray Ducke fro the Lake.
Right then there paffen by the Way
His Aunt, and eke her Daughters tway:
Ducke in his Trowzes hath he hent,
Not to be spied of Ladies gent.

"But ho! our Nephew (crieth one,) "Ho! quoth another Couzen John; And stoppen, and lough, and callen out,--This fely Clerk full low doth lout. They afken that, and talken this, "Lo here is Cox. and here is Mifs. But, as he glozeth with Speeches foote, The Ducke fore tickles his Erfe Roote: Fore-piece and Buttons all to brest, Forth thrust a white Neck and red Creft. Te-he cry'd Ladics, Clerke not fpake : Mifs ftar'd and gray Ducke crieth Quaake. "O Moder, Moder, (quoth the Daughter) "Be thilke fame Thing the Maids longen

a'ter ?

"Bette is to pyne on Coals and Chalke, "Than trust on Mon, whofe Yerde can talke.