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On a PRINTER'S being sent to Newgate, by“.
BE
ETTER we all were in our graves.

Than live in flavery to slaves ;
Worse than the anarchy at fea,
Where fiihes on each other prey :
Where ev'ry trout can make as high rants

5
O'er his inferiors as our tyrants ;
And swagger while the coast is clear :
But should a lordly pike appear,
Away you see the varlet fcud,
Or hide his coward fnout in mud.
Thus, if a gudgeon meet a roach,
He dare not venture to approach ;
Yet still has impudence to rise,
And, like Domitian, leap at fies.

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On the little house by the church-yard of CA

STLENOCK. WHOEVER pleaseth to inquire,

, Why yonder steeple wants a spire, The grey old fellow, poet Joet,

The philosophic cause will show. Once on a time a western blaft

5 At least twelve inches overcast, Reck’ning roof, weather-cock, and all, Which came with a prodigious fall;

| Mr Beaumont of Trim,

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20

And tumbling topsy-turvy round,
Light with its bottom on the ground.
For, by the laws of gravitation,
It fell into its proper station.

This is the little strutting pile,
You see just by the church-yard stile ;
The walls in tumbling gave a knock;
And thus the steeple got a shock :
From whence the neighb‘ring farmer calls
The steeple, Knock, the vicar, + Walls.

The vicar once a-week creeps in,
Sits with his knees up to his chin;
Here conns his notes, and takes a whet,
Till the small ragged dock is met.

A traveller, who by did país,
Observ'd the roof behind the grass ;
On tiptoe stood and rear'd his snout,
And saw the parson creeping out;
Was much surpris’d to see a crow
Venture to build his neft fo low.

A schoolboy ran unto't, and thought,
The crib was down, the blackbird caught.
A third, who lost his way by night,
Was forc'd for safety to alight;
And stepping o'er the fabric-roof,
His horse had like to spoil his hoof.

WARBURTON took it in his noddle,
This building was design d a model
Or of a pigeon-house, or oven,
To bake one loaf, or keep one dove in.

Then Mrs Johnson gave her verdiet,
And ev'ry one was pleas'd that heard it:
All that

you

make this ftir about, Is but a still which wants a spout,

| Reverend Archdeacon Wall.

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30

35

40

The Rev'rend Dr + Raymond guess’d,
More probably than all the rest ;
He said, but that it wanted room,

45 It might have been a pigmy's tomb.

The Doctor's family came by,
And little Miss began to cry,
Give me that house in my own hand ;
Then Madam bad the chariot stand,

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Call'd to the clerk in manner mild,
Pray reach that thing here to the child ;
That thing, I mean, among the kale;
And here's to buy a pot of ale.

The clerk said to her in a heat,
What! sell my master's country-seat,
Where he comes ev'ry week from town?
He would not sell it for a crown.
Poh! fellow, keep not such a pother,
In half an hour thou'lt make another.

бо
Says | Nancy, I can make for Miss
A finer house ten times than this;
The Dean will give me willow-sticks,
And Joe my apron-full of bricks.

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Upon stealing à CROWN when the DEAN was alleep.

By Dr SHERIDAN.
DEAR Dean, fince you in sleepy wise

Have op'd your mouth, and clos'd your eyes,
Like ghost I glide along your floor,
And softly shut the parlour door ;
For hould I break your sweet repose,

5 Who knows what money you might lose ?

† Minister of Trim.

The waiting.woman.

Since oftentimes it has been found,
- A dream has giv'n ten thousand pound.
Then sleep, my friend, dear Dean, sleep on,
And all you get shall be your own.
Provided

you
to this

agree,
That all you lose belongs to me.

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The Dean's Answer.'
So, about twelve at night

, the punk
Steals from the cully when he's drunk ;
Nor is contented with a treat,
Without a privilege to cheat."
Nor can I the least diff'rence find,
But that you left no clap behind.
But jeft apart, restore, you capon ye,
My twelve thirteens and fixpence ha'penny.
To eat my meat, and drink

my

medlicot,
And then to give me such a deadly eut-
But 'tis observ'd, that men in gowns
Are most inclin’d to plunder crowns,
Could

you but change a crown as easy
As you can steal one, how 'twould please ye.!
I thought the Lady at St Cath'rines I
Knew how to set you better patterns ;
For this I will not dine with Agmondilham,
And for his victuals let a ragman dish'em.

Saturday night.

15

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* An EPITAPH on Dr SWIFT's Doc. Of

all the dogs array'd in fur, Here under lies the truest cur.

+ An English Milling passes for thirteen pence in Ireland. # Lady Montcalhel.

|| Agmondilham Vesey, Esq; a very worthy gentleman, for whom the author had a great esteem.

5

He knew no tricks, he never flatter'd;
Nor those he fawn'd upon, bespatter'd :
So far a courtier, he would wait
And condescend to lick a plate ;
But never strove, Swift, when fed,
To bite the hand which gave him bread.

Oh, that your dogs, who walk on two,
Had only been but half as true !
Thro' thick and thin, replete or hollow,
Thy steps unerring he would follow ;
While they who pride in being scholars,
Desert thee now with golden collars ;
Or, like A&tæon's horrid pack,
Return, to fall upon thy back.

IO

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The author and his friends used to divert themselves for amusement in making riddles; some of which have been printed, and were well received : as we hope the following will be, altho' we cannot tell the authors of each. (See vol. 6. p. 296.]

1.
À RI D DL E.
I
WITH borrow'd silver shine,

What you fee is none of mine.
First I thew

you

but quarter, Like the bow that guards the Tartar,

5 Then the half, and then the whole, Ever dancing round the pole. And what will raise your admiration, I am not one of God's creation, But sprung, (and I this truth maintain), Like Pallas,

from

my

father's brain.
And after all, I chiefly owe
My beauty to the shades below.
Most wondrous forms

you

see me wear, A man, a woman, lion, bear, A fish, a fowl, a cloud, a field,

15 All figures heav'n or earth can yield ;

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