Sivut kuvina




Done by the Author in his Youth.



WOMEN ben full of Ragerie,

Yet fwinken nat fans fecrefie.

Thilke moral fhall ye understond,

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 ftoapen, 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,

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The Ducke fore tickleth his Erfe roote:
Fore-piece and buttons all-to-brest,
Forth thrust a white neck, and red creft.

Z 4



Te-he, cry'd Ladies; Clerke nought spake:
Mifs ftar'd; and gray Ducke cryeth Quake.
"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, whose yerde can talke.”





N every Town where Thamis rolls his Tyde,


A narrow Pafs there is, with Houses 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 fhort thick Sob, loud Scream, and fhriller Squall:

How can ye, Mothers, vex your children fo?

Some play, fome eat, some 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 stinking sprat and herring lie;
A brandy and tobacco fhop 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 feen,
Mending old nets to catch the fcaly fry,

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Now finging fhrill, and scolding eft between;
Scolds anfwer foul-mouth'd fcolds; bad neighbourhood

I ween.



The fnappish cur (the passengers annoy)
Close at my heel with yelping treble flies ;
The whimp'ring girl, and hoarfer-fcreaming boy,
Join to the yelping treble, fhrilling cries;
The fcolding Quean to louder notes doth rise,
And her full pipes those fhrilling cries confound;
To her full pipes the grunting hog replies;
The grunting hogs alarm the neighbours round,
And curs, girls, boys, and scolds, in the deep base are


Hard by a Sty, beneath a roof of thatch,

Dwelt Obloquy, who in her early days
Baskets of fish at Billinsgate did watch,

Cod, whiting, oyfter, mackrel, fprat, or plaice:



There learn'd she speech 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 scratched, bit, and spar'd ne lace ne band,
And bitch and rogue her answer was to all;
Nay, e'en the parts of fhame by name would call :



And vary'd Tulips fhow to dazling gay,
Bluffing in bright diverities of day.

Each painted flowret in the lake below
Surveys its beauties, whence its beauties grow;
And pale Narciffus on the bank, in vain
Transformed, gazes on himself again.
Here aged trees Cathedral Walks compose,
And mount the hill in venerable rows;
There the green Infants in their beds are laid,
The Garden's Hope, and its expected shade.
Here Orange trees with blooms and pendants shine,
And vernal honours to their autumn join;
Exceed their promife in their ripen'd store,
Yet in the rifing blossom promise more.

There in bright drops the crystal Fountains play,
By Laurels fhielded from the piercing day:
Where Daphne, now a tree, as once a maid,
Still from Apollo vindicates her shade,

Still turns her beauties from th' invading beam,
Nor feeks in vain for fuccour to the stream,
The ftream at once preferves her virgin leaves,
At once a fhelter from her boughs receives.
Where Summer's beauty midst of Winter stays,
And Winter's Coolness spite of Summer's rays.







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