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The Goat remark'd her Pulse was high,
Her languid Head; her heavy Eye;
My Back, says he, may do you Harm ;
The Sheep's at hand, and Wool is warm.

The Sheep was feeble, and complain’d,
His Sides a Load of Wool suitain'd.
Said he was flow, confeft his Fears ;
For Hounds eat Sheep as well as Hares.

She now the trotting Calf addrest, To save from Death a Friend distreft.

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Shall I, says he, of tender Age,
In this important Care engage?
Older and abler past you by ;
How strong are those ! how weak am I!
Should I presume to bear you hence,
Those Friends of mine


take Offence. Excuse me then. You know my

But dearest Friends, alas, muft part!
How shall we all lament! Adieu.
For see the Hounds are just in View.

The Court of Death.



EATH on a solemn Night of State,

In all his Pomp of Terrors fate;
Th’ Attendants on his gloomy Reign,
Diseases dire, a ghaftly Train,
Croud the vast Court. With hollow Tone
A Voice thus thunder'd from the Throne.

This Night our Minister we name,
Let ev'ry Servant speak his Claim;
Merit shall bear this Ebon Wand.
All at the Word stretch'd forth their Hand.

Fever, with burning Heat poffeft,
Advanc'd, and for the Wand addrest.
I to the weekly Bills appeal ;
Let those express my fervent Zeal,
On ev'ry slight Occasion near,
With Violence I pes severe.

Next Gout appears, with limping Pace,
Pleads how he shifts from Place to Place,
From Head to Foot how swift he flies,
And ev'ry Joint and Sinew plies;
Still working when he seems fuppreft,
A most tenacious, stubborn Guest,

A haggard Spectre from the Crew
Crawls forth, and thus asserts his Due.
'Tis I who taint the sweetest Joy,:
And in the Shape of Love destroy :
My Shanks, funk Eyes, and nofeless Face;
Prove my Pretensions to the Place.

Stone urg'd his ever-growing Force,
And, next, Consumption's meagre Corse,
With feeble Voice that scarce was heard,
-Broke with short Coughs, his Suit preferr'a :"
Let none object my ling'ring Way,
I gain, like Fabius, by Delay,
Fatigue, and weaken ev'ry Foe
By long Attack, secure tho' flow.


Plague represents his rapid Power, Who thinn'd a Nation in an Hour.

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All spoke their Claim, and hop'd the Wand,
Now Expectation hush'd the Band;
When thus the Monarch from the Throne :
Merit was ever modest known.
What, no Physician speak his Right!
None here ! But Fees their Toils requite.
Let then Intemp'rance take the Wand,
Who fills with Gold their zealous Hand.
You, Fever, Gout, and all the Rest,
(Whom wary Men, as Foes, detest)
Forego your Claim; no more pretend :
Intemp’rance is esteem'd a Friend;
He shares their Mirth, their social Joys,
And as a courted Guest destroys,
The Charge on him muft juftly fall,
Who finds Employment for you all.



MELO, forbear to call him blef,

That only boasts a large Estate :
Should all the Treasures of the West
Meet, and conspire to make him great,
I know thy better Thoughts, I know
Thy Reason can't descend fo low.
Let a broad Stream with golden Sands

Thro' all his Meadows roll,
He's but a Wretch, with all his Lands,

That wears a narrow Soul.


He swells amidit his wealthy Store,
And proudly poizing what he weighs,
In his own Scale he fondly lays

Huge Heaps of shining Ore,
He spreads the Balance wide to hold

His Manors and his Farms,
And cheats the Beam with Loads of Gold

He hugs between his Arms.
So might the Plough-Boy climb a Tree,

When Crafus mounts his Throne,
And both stand up, and smile to see

How long their Shadow's grown. Alas ! how vain their Fancies be

To think that Shape their own!


Thus mingled ftill with Wealth and State,
Crefus himself can never know:
His true Dimensions and his Weight
Are far inferior to their Show.
Were I so tall to reach the Pole,
Or grasp the Ocean with my Span,
I must be measur’d by my Soul :
The Mind's the Standard of the Man.


SPEECH af King Henry the Fourth, upon his receiving News in the Night, of the Rebellion of the Earl of Northumberland.


OW many Thousands of my poorest Subjects


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Nature's foft Nurse, how have I frighted thee,
That thou no more wilt weigh my Eye-lids down,
And steep my Senses in forgetfulness?
Why rather, Sleep, lyeft thou in smoaky Huts,
Upon unealy Pallets stretching thee,
And huht with buzzing Night-flies to thy Slumber;
Than in the perfum'd Chambers of the Great,
And lull'd with Sounds of sweetest Melody?
O thou dull God! why lyest thou with the Vile
In loathsome Beds, and leav'st the Kingly Couch
Beneath rich Canopies of costly State,
AWatch-case to a common 'Larum-bell ?
Wilt thou upon the high and giddy Maít,
Seal up the Ship-boy's Eyes, and rock his Brains,
In Cradle of the rude imperious Surge ;
And in the Visitation of the Winds,
Who take the ruffian Billows by the Top,
Carling their monstrous Heads and hanging them
With deafʼning Clamours in the flippery Shrouds,
That, with the Hurly, Death itself awakes ?
Canst, thou, O partial Sleep! give thy Repose
To the wet Sea-boy, in an Hour fo rude?
And, in the calmeit, and the stilleft Night,
With all Appliances and Means to boot,
Deny it to a King ? Then, happy, lowly Clown,
Uneasy lies the Head that wears a Crown.

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