SHEPHERD.

What must I do, when woman will be cross?

SHEPHERD.

Lord, what is she, that can so turn and wind?

SHEPHERD.

If she be wind, what stills her when she blows?

SHEPHERD.

ECHо. Be cross.

ECHO. Wind.

ECHO. Blows.

ECHO. Bang her.

ECHO. Hang her.

But, if she bang again, still should I bang her?

SHEPHERD.

Is there no way to moderate her anger?

SHEPHERD.

Thanks, gentle Echo! right thy answers tell
What woman is, and how to guard her well.

ECHо. Guard her well.

EPITAPH.*

HERE continueth to rot
The body of FRANCIS CHARTRES;
Who with an INFLEXIBLE CONSTANCY,
and INIMITABLE UNIFORMITY of life,
PERSISTED,

In spite of AGE and INFIRMITIES,
In the practice of EVERY HUMAN VICE,
Excepting PRODIGALITY and HYPOCRISY:

*This epitaph on a man infamous for all manner of vices, was written by Dr Arbuthnot,

His insatiable AVARICE exempted him from the first;
His matchless IMPUDENCE from the second.
Nor was he more singular in the undeviating pravity
of his manners, than successful in accumulating

WEALTH:

For, without TRADE or PROFEssion,
Without TRUST of PUBLIC MONEY,
And without BRIBE-WORTHY SERVICE,
He acquired, or more properly created,

A MINISTERIAL ESTATE.

He was the only person of his time

Who Could CHEAT without the mask of HONESTY; Retain his primeval MEANNESs when possessed of

TEN THOUSAND a-YEAR;

And, having daily deserved the GIBBET for what

he did,

Was at last condemned to it for what he could not do.*

O indignant reader!

Think not his life useless to mankind! PROVIDENCE Connived at his execrable designs, To give to after ages conspicuous PROOF and

EXAMPLE

Of how small estimation is EXORBITANT WEALTH in the sight of GOD,

By his bestowing it on the most UNWORTHY Of

ALL MORTALS,

JOHANNES jacet hic Mirandula-cætera nôrant Et Tagus et Ganges-forsan et Antipodes.

*The Colonel, at a very advanced period of life, was tried for a rape.

APPLIED TO F. C.

HERE Francis Chartres lies *-be civil!
The rest God knows-perhaps the Devil.

EPIGRAM.

PETER Complains, that God has given
To his poor babe a life so short:
Consider, Peter, he's in Heaven;
"Tis good to have a friend at court.

ANOTHER.

You beat your pate, and fancy wit will come:
Knock as you please, there's nobody at home.

EPITAPH OF BY-WORDS.

HERE lies a round woman, who thought mighty odd Ev'ry word she e'er heard in this church about God. To convince her of God the good Dean did endea

vour;

But still in her heart she held Nature more clever.

* Thus applied by Mr Pope: "Here lies Lord Coningsby."-H.

Tho' he talk'd much of virtue, her head always run
Upon something or other she found better fun:
For the dame, by her skill in affairs astronomical,
Imagin'd, to live in the clouds was but comical.
In this world she despis'd ev'ry soul she met here;
And now she's in t'other, she thinks it but queer.

EPIGRAM FROM THE FRENCH.

PRIOR.

SIR, I admit your gen'ral rule,
That ev'ry poet is a fool:

But you yourself may serve to show it,
That every fool is not a poet.

EPITAPH.

WELL then, poor G

lies under ground!

So there's an end of honest Jack.

So little justice here he found,

'Tis ten to one he'll ne'er come back.*

It is strange that Goldsmith should have condescended to adopt this (not very excellent) epigram, in the lines printed in his works:

Here lies poor Ned Purdon, from misery freed,

Who long was a bookseller's hack;

He led such a damnable life in this world-
I don't think he'll wish to come back.

EPIGRAM

ON THE TOASTS OF THE KIT-CAT CLUB,
ANNO 1716.*

WHENCE deathless KIT-CAT took its name,
Few critics can unriddle:

Some say from PASTRYCOOK it came,
And some, from CAT and FIddle.
From no trim beaux its name it boasts,
Gray statesmen, or green wits;
But from this pellmell pack of toasts
Of old CATS and young KITS.

TO A LADY,

WITH THE TEMPLE OF FAME.

WHAT'S fame with men, by custom of the nation,
Is call'd, in women, only reputation:

About them both why keep we such a pother?
Part you with one, and I'll renounce the other.

*The Kit-cat Club, which was the point of convivial union among the friends of the Hanoverian succession, was sometimes said to have derived its name from Christopher Kat, a pastry-cook, remarkable for the excellence of his twopenny pies. Others supposed it was from a cat and fiddle, the sign of the tavern. But the epigrammatist, with no very pregnant humour, derives it from their toasts, upon each of whom they wrote verses, which were engraved upon the glasses consecrated to the health proposed.