7OMEN ben full of Ragerie,
W Yet fwinken nat fans fecrefie.
Thilke moral shall ye
From Schoole-boy's Tale of fayre Irelond:
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 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 filly Clerk full low doth lout:
They afken that, and talken this,
"Lo here is Coz, and here is Mifs."
But, as he glozeth with speeches 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 fpake:
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 pine on coals and chalke,
"Then truft on Mon, whofe yerde can talke."
IN every Town where Thamis rolls his Tyde,
A narrow Pafs there is, with Houfes 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 butter call.
And on the broken pavement, here and there,
Doth many a ftinking sprat and herring lie;
A brandy and tobacco shop is near,
And hens, and dogs, and hogs are feeding by;
And here a failor's jacket hangs to dry.
At every 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
The fnappifh cur (the paffengers annoy)
Close at my heel with yelping treble flies;
The whimp'ring girl, and hoarser-screaming boy,
Join to the yelping treble, fhrilling cries;
The fcolding Quean to louder notes doth rife,
And her full pipes thofe 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
drown'd.
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, oyfter, mackrel, fprat, or plaice:
There learn'd the fpeech from tongues that never cease.
Slander befide her, like a Magpie, chatters,
With Envy, (fpitting Cat) dread foe to peace;
Like a curs'd Cur, Malice before her clatters,
And, vexing every wight, tears clothes and all to tatters.
Her dugs were mark'd by every Collier's hand,
Her mouth was black as bull-dog's at the stall :
She fcratched, bit, and fpar'd ne lace ne band,
And bitch and rogue her answer was to all;
Nay, e'en the parts of shame 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 afkance like modest Virgin look.
Such place hath Deptford, navy-building town,
Woolwich and Wapping, smelling strong of pitch;
Such Lambeth, envy of each band and gown;
And Twickenham 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 Thames, or all adown;
Ne Richmond's felf, from whofe tall front are ey'd Vales, fpires, meandering ftreams, and Windfor's towery pride.
OF A LADY SINGING TO HER LUTE.
AIR Charmer, cease, nor make your voice's prize
A heart refign'd the conqueft of your eyes:
Weil might, alas! that threaten'd veffel fail,
Which winds and lightning both at once affail.
We were too bleft with these inchanting lays,
Which must be heavenly when an Angel plays:
But killing charms your lover's death contrive,
Left heavenly mufick fhould be heard alive.
Orpheus could charm the trees; but thus a tree,
Taught by your hand, can charm no lefs than he:
A Poet made the filent wood purfue,
This vocal wood had drawn the Poet too.
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