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Receiv'd a town mouse at his board,
165 Pudding, that might have pleasʼd a Dean ; Cheese, such as men in Suffolk make, But wish'd it Stilton for his sake; Yet, to his guest, tho' no.way sparing, He eat himself the rind and paring.
170 Our courtier scarce could touch a bit, But show'd his breeding and his wit : He did his best to seem to eat, And cry'd, “ I vow you're mighty neat. “ But Lord, my friend, this savage scene! 175 " For God's sake, come, and live with men : 6 Consider, mice, like men, must die, 66 Both small and great, both
and I: “ Then spend your life in joy and sport, “ (This doctrine, friend, I learnt at court.)" 182
The veriest hermit in the nation
185 When all their Lordships had sat late.)
Behold the place, where if a poet Shin'd in description, he might shew it; Tell how the moon-beam trembling falls, And tips with silver all the walls ;
190 Palladian walls, Venetian doors, Grotesco roofs, and stucco floors : But let it (in a word) be said, The moon was up, and men a-bed, The napkins white, the carpet red;
195 The guests withdrawn had left the treat, And down the mice sate, tête à tête.
Our courtier walks from dish to dish, Tastes for his friend of fowl and fish; Tells all their names, lays down the law, " Que ça est bon! Ab gouter ça ! “ That jelly's rich, this malmsey healing, 6 Pray, dip your
whiskers and your tail in.” Was ever such a happy swain ?.. He stuffs and swills, and stuffs again.
205 “ I'm quite ashamed 'tis mighty rude “ To eat so much--but all's so good. « I have a thousand thanks to give “ My Lord alone knows how to live." No sooner said, but from the hall Rush chaplain, butler, dogs and all : “ A rat! a rat! clap to the door". The cat comes bouncing on the floor.
O for the heart of Homer's mice,
215 (It was by Providence they think, For
your damn'd stucco has no chink.) “ An't please your Honour," quoth the peasant, 66 This same dessert is not so pleasant : 66 Give me again my hollow tree, « A crust of bread and liberty !”
AGAIN? new tumults in my breast ?
Ah spare me, Venus ! let me, let me rest ? I am not now, alas! the man
As in the gentle reign of my Queen Anne. Ah sound no more thy soft alarms,
5 Nor circle sober fifty with thy charms. Mother too fierce of dear desires !
Turn, turn to willing hearts your wanton fires. To Number five direct your doves, There spread round. MURRAY all your blooming
loves; Noble and
who strikes the heart
VER. 9. Number five,] The number of Murray's lodgings in King's Bench Walks.