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7OMEN ben full of Ragerie,

Yet fwinken nat fans fecrefie.

Thilke moral fhall ye underftond, From Schoole-boy's Tale of fayre Irelond: Which to the Fennes hath him betake, To filche the gray Ducke fro the Lake. Right then, there paffen by the way His Aunt, and eke her Daughers tway. Ducke in his Trowfes hath he hent, Not to be spied of Ladies gent. "But ho! our Nephew, (crieth one) "Ho! quoth another, Cozen John;" And stoppen, and lough, and callen out,This fely Clerk full low doth lout: They afken that, and talken this, "Lo here is Coz, and here is Mifs." But, as he glozeth with fpeeches foote, The Ducke fore tickleth his Erfe roote: Fore-piece and buttons all-to-brest, Forth thrust a white neck, and red creft. Te-he, cry'd Ladies; Clerke nought spake: Mifs ftar'd; and gray Ducke cryeth Quaake. "O Moder, Moder, (quoth the daughter) "Be thilke fame thing Maids longen a'ter? "Bette is to pyne on coals and chalke, "Then trust on Mon, whofe yerde can talke.”










IN ev'ry Town where Thamis rolls his Tyde,
A narrow Pafs there is, with Houses low;
Where ever and anon, the Stream is ey'd,
And many a Boat, foft fliding to and fro.
There oft are heard the notes of Infant Woe,
The short thick Sob, loud Scream, and fhriller Squall:
How can ye, Mothers, vex your children fo?
Some play, fome eat, fome cack against the wall,
And as they crouchen low, for bread and



And on the broken pavement, here and there,
Doth many a stinking sprat and herring lie;
A brandy and tobacco fhop is near,
And hens, and dogs, and hogs are feeding by;
And here a failor's jacket hangs to dry.
At ev'ry door are fun-burnt matrons seen,
Mending old nets to catch the fcaly fry,
Now finging fhrill, and fcolding eft between ;
Scolds anfwer foul-mouth'd fcolds; bad neighbourhood
I ween.


The fnappish cur (the paffengers annoy)
Close at my heel with yelping treble flies;
The whimp'ring girl, and hoarfer-screaming boy,
Join to the yelping treble, fhrilling cries;
The fcolding Quean to louder notes doth rife,

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And her full pipes those fhrilling cries confound;
To her full pipes the grunting hog replies;
The grunting hogs alarm the neighbours round,
And curs, girls, boys, and fcolds, in the deep bafe are


Hard by a Sty, beneath a roof of thatch,
Dwelt Obloquy, who in her early days
Baskets of fish at Billingfgate did watch,


Cod, whiting, oyster, mackrel, fprat, or plaice:

There learn'd fhe (peech from tongues that never ceafe.
Slander befide her, like a Magpie, chatters,

With Envy, (pitting Cat) dread foe to peace;
Like a curs'd Cur, Malice before her clatters,
And vexing ev'ry wight, tears clothes and all to tatters.



Her dugs were mark'd by ev'ry Collier's hand,
Her mouth was black as bulldogs at the stall :
She fcratch'd, bit, and spar'd ne lace ne band,
And bitch and rogue her anfwer was to all;
Nay, e'en the parts of fhame by name would call :
Yea, when the paffed by or lane or nook,
Would greet the man who turn'd him to the Wall,
And by his hand obfcene the porter took,
Nor ever did askance like modest Virgin look.



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Such place hath Deptford, navy-building town,
Woolwich and Wapping, fmeliing ftrong of pitch;
Such Lambeth, envy of each band and gown,
And Twick'nam fuch, which fairer fcenes enrich,.
Grots, ftatues, urns, and Jo-n's Dog and Bitch.
Ne village is without, on either fide,

All up the filver hames, or all adown;
Ne Richmond's felf, from whofe tall front are ey'd
Vales, fpires, meandring ftreams, and Windfor's tow'ry


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Of a LADY finging to her LUTE.
AIR Charmer, cease, nor make your voice's prize
A heart refign'd the conqueft of your eyes :
Well might, alas! that threat'ned veffel fail,
Which winds and lightning both at once affail.
We were too bleft with these inchanting lays,
Which must be heav'nly when an Angel plays:
But killing charms your lover's death contrive,
Left heav'nly mufic fhould be heard alive.
Orpheus could charm the trees, but thus a tree,
Taught by your hand, can charm no less than he:
A Poet made the filent wood pursue,
This vocal wood had drawn the Poet too.

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On a FAN of the Author's defign, in which
was painted the ftory of CEPHALUS and
PROCRIS, with the Motto, AURa Veni.


OME, gentle Air! th' Æolian fhepherd faid,
While Procris panted in the fecret shade;
Come, gentle Air, the fairer Delia cries,
While at her feet her fwain expiring lies.
Lo the glad gales o'er all her beauties stray,
Breathe on her lips, and in her bosom play!
In Delia's hand this toy is fatal found,
Nor could that fabled dart more surely wound :
Both gifts destructive to the givers prove ;
Alike both lovers fall by those they love.
Yet guiltless too this bright deftroyer lives,
At random wounds, nor knows the wound fhe gives :

She views the story with attentive eyes,
And pities Procris, while her lover dies.

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