Famulabitur caftum intuens Modeftia,

Et dofta cultu Urbanitas;

Et advenis præfens domi Hofpitalitas,
Aperta vultus & manum.

His cum fodalibus Melissa Gratiis
Ducetur ad tuam domum,

Fidelis, agrum quicquid aut lætabile eft,

Et vera tecum particeps:

Solando que curarum amara leniat,
Et confulendo temperet ;

Fruendo que felicitates augeat,

Et quæ novis addat novas.

Irrupta copula hifce continebitur,
His vinculis firmabitur,

Validis ab annis ad fenectam, fi tuæ

Meliffa fit vite comes;

Quam, Marce, cùm ducetur uxor, elige

Menfæque confortem & tori.

Good-Breeding fhall her Handmaid be,
Join'd with chaft-look'd Modesty ;
While open Heart, and Hand and Face

Hofpitality displays.

If e'er Melissa grace your Home,

Thefe Attendants with her come.

Whate'er can good or ill befall

Faithful Partner she of all.

Whose Wisdom teaching well to bear,
Sooths the Bitternefs of Care.

Whofe Joy, if profp'rous Fate you meet,
Adds new Sweetnefs to the Sweet.

Thefe Ties will nuptial Love engage,
Down from Youth to hoary Age,

If e'er Meliffa, lovely Spouse!

Life's Companion! crown your Vows. Such, fuch a Confort chufe to wed, Worthy of your Board and Bed.

The

The LOVE R.

AY, dearest Clio, have you never seen,

SAY

Never obferv'd the Lover by the Mien?
The Body wrapt up in a gentle Trance,
The Step imperfect, and the flow Advance,
The languid Look, the fweetly-melting Eye,
And faintly now and then the rising Sigh;
Still by your Side, for ever in your Way,
And always wanting fome foft thing to say,
With fault'ring Accent, and with Words half told,
And the fwoln Bofom burning to unfold;
'Till many tender Hours the Paffion prové,
And flowly melt it to familiar Love.
Say, dearest Clio, ever-charming Fair!

Sighing I ask you, is not fuch my Air?
And are not all. Men fuch, when you they see?
Surely they are, All Lovers are like me,

The

I

F you mind but the Moral my Tale does unfold,

Tho' the Story be antient, 'twill never be old. With the Wife and the Good Jeft will do you no [hurt,

But the Fool or the Knave makes you pay for your

[Sport.

In the merry brave Days of the glorious Queen [Befs, When your Men of much Senfe fear'd not those that

[had lefs:

"Twas theCustom of Courtiers to keep a poorFellow,

Who should joke by Commiffion in Red,Green and

[Yellow; Who for one thing or other did most People fit, Some were pleas'd with the Garb, and some laugh'd [at the Wit. A Noble puff'd up, with his Pockets well ftor'd, Not as Walfingham wife, but as fine as a Lord, Made a Vifit, bedawb'd with Embroidery all, Where a Fool was unluckily fate in the Hall. Not the Rainbow when brightest more gorgious [could fhow, Nor a Belle on a Birthnight,nor Bridegroom a Beau.

Welcome

Welcome Brother, cries Motley, I fee by the Hue

Of your Cloaths what you are; Pray, Sir, whose [Fool are you?

To this anfwer'd my Lord, in a peftilent Fume, See him punish'd before I ftir out of the Room; I wonder you'll keep these pied Rascals, I hate 'em, 'Tis meer Scandalum this, I can tell you, Magnatum. So the Master his Orders was fain to dispatch, The poor Knave should be whipp'd at the Buttery(Hatch. Execution was done; and he back was convey'd On his knees to beg Pardon for what he had said. So with fhrugging his Shoulders, and Tears in his [Eyes, Streight down on his Marrow-Bones falling,he cries: I'll ne'er call you Fool more,but Lord Cecil, I trow, Would have scarce had me whipp'd for the calling

[Him fo!

GRON