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Β Ο Ο Κ Ι.
EPISTLE VII. ·
IMITATED IN THE MANNER OF DR.SWIFT.
'TIS true, my Lord, I gave my word,
I would be with you, June the third ;
“ The Dog-days are no more the case.”
bard retire, Hold out some months 'twixt sun and fire, And you
the first warm weather, Me and the butterflies together.
My Lord, your favours well I know; 'Tis with distinction you bestow; And not to ev'ry one that comes, Just as a Scotsman does his plums. “ Pray take them, Sir.- Enough's a feast : “ Eat some, and pocket up the rest."What, rob your boys? those pretty rogues! “ No, Sir, you'll leave them to the hogs." Thus fools with compliments besiege ye, Contriving never to oblige ye. Scatter
favours on a fop,
Now this I'll say, you'll find in me
And all that voluntary vein,
A weasel once made shift to slink
Sir, you may spare your application,
make me none of mine.
VER. 67. Child] Sir Francis Child, the banker.