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THE DIVORCE.

TUNE.
« Old women we are, and as wise in the chair."

O more let defections of Wedlock be blam'd,

In morals more strict not a man cou'd be nam’d,

Yet his Wife to a friend he transferr'd.

In Rome they encourag'd no Trials crim. con.

In France, Cuckold-making's a Jest; And, I trust, in few years, by the help of bon ton,

We shall be as polite as the best. 'Tis vastly immense! and most horridly low !

When a Month after Marriage is past, That the Husband shou'd be such a Fright not to know

His Lady's affections can't last.

For, broken in Fortune, and ruin'd in Health,

To patch up both Person and Purse,
His Honour addresses some Citizen's Wealth,

And the Daughter accepts, as his Nurse.

Too oft, for the sake of a Title impure,

Doom'd Beauty is forc'd from her vows, To unite with a Blank, for upon the Grand Tour

Foreign Vice has disabled the Spouse.

In defence of the Fair, Satire openly stands,

And forbids the vague Spendthrifts to roam ; Wives have too much stock lying dead on their hands

When Husbands are Bankrupts at home,

Censure no married dame, as the trade's so decreas'd,

Heavy Interest, Principal clogs ;
When Ladies have furnish'd an exquisite feast,

Must their dainties be thrown to the dogs ?

Then Divorce, but we laugh at such frivolous things,

Having here no intention to part :Weare wed to our Wine; Wine regen’ratesthe springs

Of that self-moving muscle the Heart.

Though to Wine we are wed, yet we do not think fit

To be tied down for better for worse, If our landlord Adultery dares to commit,

At once we demand a Divorce.

But at present I hope, with an Englishman's ease,

We enjoy both our Wine and our Wives; By Liberty bless'd, with the pleasure to please,

May we live all the days of our lives.

THE WORMS.

TUNE.
" When Strephon to Chloe made love his pretence."

K

EEP your distance, quoth King, who in lead

coffin lay, As beside him they lower'd a shrowdless old Clay; The Mendicant Carcase replied, with a sneer, “ Mister Monarch be still, we are all equal here.

** Life's miseries long I was forc'd to abide, “ By the Seasons sore pelted, sore pelted by pride : “ And tho' clad in ermine, yet you've been distrest, 6. Both cares now are over,--so let us both rest."

A committee of worms, Manor Lords of the Grave, Overheard 'em and wonder'd to here the Dead rave. Quoth the Chairman, Dare mortals presume thus to

prate, When even we Maggots don't think ourselves great? “Insane ostentations, who brag of their births, “Yet are but Machines, mix'd of aggregate earths. “They distinctions demand, with distinctions they meet “When we throw by the rich folks, as not fit to eat. They are scurvy compounds of Debauch and

Disease “ Putrefactions of Sloth, or Vice run to the Lees, “ By Luxury's pestilence Health is laid waste; And all they can boast is, They're poison'd in

Taste. “ 'Tis true, cries Crawlina, the Queen of the Worms

They make upon earth immense noise with their “ Pononner, with Beautiestho' so much I deal, [forms, “ On not one in ten can I make a good meal. “When we chose to regale, on the dainties of charms “ We formerly fed on necks, faces, and arms; “ Now Varnish envenoms their tainted complexions, “ A fine woman's features spread fatal infections. “Not a Worm of good taste, and bonton,I dare vouch, " A morsel of fashion-made Beauties will touch. " A Quality Toast we imported last week,-“ Two Maggots, my servants, dy'd eating her cheek." Very odd, quoth a Critic, Wormshold such discourse. Very odd, quoth the Author, that Men shou'd talk Like Reptiles, we crawl upon earth for a term, Take wing for a while,

then descend to a Worm.

worse.

Dan Pope declares all Human Race to be Worms; Maids, Misses, Wives, Widows, all Maggotty forms. But of Worms, and worm-feeding, no more we'll

repeat, Here's a glass, To the Dainty that's made for Man's

meat.

THE RACE.

TUNE.
"As Roger came tapping at Dolly's Window."

AS

S the Farmer went over his corn ripen'd land,

And counted encrease of his grain, Scarlet poppies he saw down the long furrows stand,

Like soldiers, in lines on the plain. Quoth he, though in Learning I am not well skill'd,

In mem’ry this maxim I'll keep, Those weeds among wheat, shew when belly is fillid

We have nothing to do but to sleep.
Each scene of creation that opes to our view,

Affords contemplation a theme,
As blossoms enameli'd by drops of bright dew,

With di'monds so Court-beauties beam.
See grape to grape swelling, transparent on vine,

That fruit is an emblem of bliss';
Balmly lip to lip Lovers as lusciously join,

And the nectar enjoy of a Kiss. While Britons, like Britons, dare English Taste own,

Success on our strength could depend We now, by importing enervate Bon Ton,

To impotent Idlers descend.

We wed without Love, we attempt without Powers,

And strengthless, and senseless, in swarms, Insipid as butterflies, basking on flowers,

The fribbles fill fine women's arms.

If Bacchus and Ceres were drove from Love's court,

Desire must frozen depart! Roast Beef quantum suff. and take tantum Red Port,

They steel the Main-spring of the Heart. Cou'd we Venus consult, why indeed so we may,

Since each circle a Venus supplies,
I'll back my opinion, those beauties will say

A Milksop's the thing we despise.
The Elixir of Love in our full bottles view,

For Beauty's sake Bumpers embrace ;
While képtinthis Training we can't butcome through,

For Give-and-Take Plates in Love's Race. Success to that Meeting, where each against each,

Well mounted, push forward to win, For third, fourth, or fifth heats, they rallying stretch,

And, neck to neck, nimbly come in.

THE PICTURE.

TUNE.
Fine Songsters too often apologies make."

WISHING

FISHING well to good folks, both on this

and that,
By my own fire-side, with my Lass,
Not yawning, nor mute, but in spiritful chat,
To Old England I took off my glass.

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