Then fhaking him-Wake fwineherd Allen cries,
What? grumbling Sim replies.

I've joyful news

I am the luckieft Rogue-by this no light,
I have had full employment all the night.
The daughter kindly paid her father's score,
All night I have embrac'd her

the whore !
O thou false traytor, clark! thou haft defil'd
Our honeft family, deflower'd our child!
Thy life fhall anfwer it;with that he caught
At Allen's throat; young Allen ftoutly fought.
Both give and take, returning blows with blows;
But Allen ftroke the miller on the nofe
With all his force; out flies the ftreaming gore,
And down it runs. They tumble on the floor:
Then up they get, lab'ring with equal ftrife:
Sim ftumbled backward quite a-cross his wife.
She faft a-fleep, none of this fcuffle heard.

Wak'd by his fall, and heartily afraid;

de

Help holy cross of Broholme! (OI faint)
Help my good angel! help my patron saint!
The Fiend lies on me like a load of lead!
Remove this devil, this night-mare, or I'm dead!
Then up ftarts John, and turns 'em from the wife,
Hunts for a cudgel to conclude the strife.

Up

Up gets the miller, Allen grafps him close,
Both play at hard-head, ftrugling to get loose.
Out fteps the wife, well knowing where there ftood
In a by-corner, a tough piece of wood;.

On this the feiz'd, and by a glimm'ring light
Which enter'd at a chink faw fomething white.
But, by a foul mistake, 'twas her ill hap
To take his bald pate for the scholars cap.

She lifts the ftaff, it fell on his bare crown,
Strong was the blow, fhe knock'd her husband down.
OI am flain, the miller loudly cry'd.

Live to be hang'd, thou thief, Allen reply'd.
Away they go, firft take their meal and cake,.
Then lay the grift upon their horfe's back.
To Scholar's-hall they march, for now 'twas light,
Pleas'd with the ftrange adventures of the night.

The wife the scholars curfes, binds his head,
Then lift him up, and lays him on the bed.
O wife, fays Sim, our daughter is defil'd,
That villain Allen has debauch'd our child.
Miftaken me for John, he told me all;
Ten thousand furies plague that Scholar's-hall!
O falfe abufive knave! (the wife reply'd)
In ev'ry word the villain fpake he ly'd..

I wak'd

I wak'd, and heard our harmless child complain,
And rofe, to know the cause, and ease her pain.
I found her torn with gripes, a dram I brought,
And made her take a comfortable draught.

Then lay down by her, chaff'd her swelling breaft,
And lull'd her in these very arms to reft.

All was contrivance, malice all and spight,

I have not parted from her all this night.
Then is fhe innocent? Ay by my life,
As pure and spotlefs-as thy bofom wife.
I'm fatisfy'd, says Sim. O that damn'd Hall!
I'll do the beft I can to ftarve 'em all.

And thus the miller of his fear is eas'd,
The mother and the daughter both well pleas'd.

ΟΝ

M&E on an a
SHERRY

ON THE

MARRIAGE

OF AN

Old MAID.

By R. F.

C

HLOE a coquet in her prime,
The vaineft fickleft thing alive;
Behold the strange effects of time!
Marries and doats at forty five.

Thus weather-cocks, who for a while
Have turn'd about with every blast,
Grown old and deftitute of oil,
Ruft to a point, and fix at laft.

EPITAPH

56668

EPITAPH on the MONUMENT of the Marquis of Winchester.

By Mr. DRYDEN.

Η

E who in impious times undaunted stood,
And midft rebellion durft be just and good;
Whofe arms afferted, and whofe fuff'rings more
Confirm'd the caufe for which he fought before,
Refts here rewarded by an heavenly prince,
For what his earthly could not recompenfe.
Pray (reader) that fuch times no more appear,
Or if they happen, learn true honour here.

Ark of thy ages faith and loyalty,
Which (to preserve them) heaven confin'd in thee.
Few fubjects could a king like thine deserve,
And fewer fuch a king fo well cou'd ferve.
Bleft king, bleft fubject, whofe exalted state
By fufferings rofe, and gave the law to fate.
Such fouls are rare; but mighty patterns giv'n
To earth, were meant for ornaments to heav'n.

EPITAPH