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And the fame law ordains a pudding then, "To children grateful, nor unfit for men.

“Take hens, geese, turkeys, then, or something light, “ Because their legs if broil'd will serve at night; “And fince I find that roast beef makes you sleep, 30 "Corn it a little more and so it will keep. "Roaft it on Monday; pity it fhould be spoil'd: "On Tuesday mutton either roaft or boil'd: "On Wednesday should be fome variety, "A loin or breaft of veal and pigeon pie :

“ On Thursday each man of his dish make choice ; “'Tis fit on market-days we all rejoice : "And then on Friday, as I said before,


"We'll have a difh of fish and one dish more: "On Saturday ftew'd beef with something nice, 40 Provided quick and tofs'd up in a trice,

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"Because that in the afternoon you know "By custom we must to the alehouse go; "For elfe how should our houses ere be clean "Except we gave fome time to do it then? "From whence, unless we value not our lives, "None part without rememb'ring firft our wives. "But these are standing rules for ev'ry day, "And very good ones, as I fo may fay. "After each meal let us take a hearty cup; "And where we dine it is fitting that we fup.

"Now for the application and the ufe. "I found your care for Sunday an abuse:



"All would be asking, Pray, Sir, where d'

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"I have roaft beef, choice ven'fon, turkey, chine."55 "Ev'ry one is hawling me. Then say poor I

"It is a bitter bus'nefs to deny.

"But who is it cares for fourteen meals a-day?

"As for my own part I had rather flay

"And take them now and then-and here and there,

According to my present bill of fare.


"You know I'm fingle: if you all agree

"To treat by turns each will be sure of me." The Veftry all applauded with a hum,

And the fev'n wifeft of them bad him come.



WHEN the young people ride the skimmington
There is a gen'ral trembling in a town:
Not only he for whom the perfon rides
Suffers, but they fweep other doors befides;
And by that hieroglyphick does appear
That the good woman is the mafter there.
At Jenny's door the barb'rous Heathens swept,
And his poor wife fcolded until she wept;
The mob fwept on, whilst she sent forth in vain
Her vocal thunder and her briny rain.
Some few days after two young spark's came there,
And whilft fhe does her coffee fresh prepare
One for discourse of news the mafter calls,

Th' other on this ungrateful subject falls.




"Pray, Mrs. Jenny *, whence came this report, 15 "For I believe there is no great reason for 't, "As if the folks th' other day swept your door, "And half a dozen of your neighbours more?” "There is nothing in it," fays Jenny *; "that is done "Where the wife rules, but here I rule alone; "And Gentlemen, you 'd much mistaken be "If any one should not think that of me. "Within these walls my fuppliant vaffals know "What due obedience to their prince they owe, "And kifs the fhadow of my papal toe. "My word is a law: when I my pow'r advance "There is not a greater Monarch ev'n in France. "Not the Mogul or Czar of Mufcovy, "Not Prefter John or Cham of Tartary, "Are in their houfes Monarch more than I. My houfe my caftle is, and here I'm king; “I'm pope, I'm emp'ror, Monarch, ev'ry thing. "What tho' my wife be partner of my bed? "The Monarch's crown fits only on this head." His wife had plaguy ears as well as tongue, 35 And hearing all thought his discourse too long : Her confcience faid he should not tell fuch lies, And to her knowledge fuch; the therefore cries, "D'ye hear-you-Sirrah-Monarch-there?-

"Come down



"And grind the coffee-or I'll crack your crown." So in the copy from which we print, though it is evidently the Monarch himself who speaks.

Volume II,



WHEN Naboth's Vineyard look'd fo fine

The king cry'd out " Would this were mine!"
And yet no reafon could prevail

To bring the owners to a fale.
Jezebel saw with haughty pride
How Ahab griev'd to be deny'd,
And thus accofted him with scorn;

"Shall Naboth make a monarch mourn?

"A king and weep! The ground is your own; "I'll veft the Garden in the crown."

With that she hatch'd a Plot, and made

Poor Naboth anfwer with his head;

And when his harmless blood was spilt

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The ground became the forfeit of his guilt.
Poor Hall, renown'd for comely hair,
Whofe hands perhaps were not so fair,
Yet had a Jezebel as near.
Hall, of fmall Scripture conversation,
Yet howe'er Hungerford's quotation,
By fome ftrange accident had got
The story of this Garden Plot,
Wifely forefaw he might have reason
To dread a modern bill of treason,
If Jezebel fhould please to want
His fmall addition to her grant,




Therefore refolv'd in humble fort
To begin first and make his court;
And seeing nothing else would do

Gave a third part to save th' other two.




I SING of food by British nurse design'd

To make the stripling brave and maiden kind;
Delay not, Mufe! in numbers to rehearse

The pleasures of our life and finews of our verse;
Let Pudding's dish most wholesome be thy theme, 5
And dip thy fwelling plumes in fragrant cream.
Sing then that Difh fo fitting to improve

A tender modefty and trembling love,
Swimming in butter of a golden hue,
Garnish'd with drops of rofe's spicy dew.

Sometimes the frugal matron feems in hafte,
Nor cares to beat her Pudding into paste ;
Yet milk in proper fkillet fhe will place,
And gently spice it with a blade of mace,
Then fet fome careful damfel to look to 't,
And still to stir away the bishop's foot;

For if burnt milk fhould to the bottom flick,
Like over-heated zeal it would make folks fick.
Into the milk her flour she gently throws,
As valets now would powder tender beaux;


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