Why, what a jeft fhould I have been,
Had now my Lady been within!

What could I 've faid? I'm mighty glad
She went abroad-fhe 'd thought me mad.
The hour of dining now is past:

Well then, I'll e'en go home and fast;
And, fince I 'fcap'd being made a fcoff,
I think I'm very fairly off.

My Lady now returning home,

Calls, 66 Cracherode, is the Doctor come?"
He had not heard of him-" Pray fee,
""Tis now a quarter after three."

The Captain walks about, and searches

Through all the rooms, and courts, and archés;
Examines all the fervants round,

In vain-no Doctor 's to be found.

My Lady could not choose but wonder:

Captain, I fear you 've made fome blunder: "But pray, to-morrow go at ten,

"I'll try his manners once again;
"If rudeness be the effect of knowledge,
My son shall never fee a college."
The Captain was a man of reading,
And much good fenfe, as well as breeding,
Who, loath to blame, or to incense,
Said little in his own defence.
Next day another message brought:
The Doctor, frighten'd at his fault,
Is drefs'd, and ftealing through the crowd,
Now pale as death, then blush'd and bow'd,

Panting

Panting-and faultering-humm'd and ha'd,
"Her Ladyship was gone abroad;
"The Captain too-he did not know
"Whether he ought to ftay or go;"
Begg'd fhe 'd forgive him. In conclufion,
My Lady, pitying his confufion,

Call'd her good-nature to relieve him;
Told him, fhe thought fhe might believe hims
And would not only grant his fuit,

But vifit him, and eat fome fruit;
Provided, at a proper time,
He told the real truth in rhyme.
'Twas to no purpose to oppose,
She'd hear of no excuse in profe.
The Doctor ftood not to debate,
Glad to compound at any rate;
So, bowing, feemingly comply'd;
Though, if he durft, he had deny'd.
But first, refolv'd to fhow his taste,
Was too refin'd to give a feast:
He 'd treat with nothing that was rare;.
But winding walks and purer air;
Would entertain without expence,
Or pride, or vain magnificence:
For well he knew, to fuch a guest
The plaineft meals must be the best.
To ftomachs clogg'd with coftly fare
Simplicity alone is rare;

Whilst high, and nice, and curious meats,
Are really but vulgar treats.

Inftead

Instead of spoils of Perfian looms,
The coftly boasts of regal rooms,
Thought it more courtly and discreet.
To fcatter rofes at her feet;

Rofes of richest dye, that shone
With native luftre, like her own:
Beauty that needs no aid of art

Through every fenfe to reach the heart.
The gracious dame, though well she knew
All this was much beneath her due,
Lik'd every thing-at least thought fit
To praise it par maniere d'acquit.

Yet fhe, though feeming pleas'd, can't bear
The fcorching fun, or chilling air;
Difturb'd alike at both extremes,
Whether he shows or hides the beams:
Though seeming pleas'd at all she fees,
Starts at the ruffling of the trees;
And scarce can speak for want of breath,
In half a walk fatigu'd to death.

The Doctor takes his hint from hence,
T' apologize his late offence:

“Madam, the mighty power of use
"Now ftrangely pleads in my excufe:
"If you unus'd have scarcely strength
"To gain this walk's untoward length;
"If, frighten'd at a scene so rude,
"Through long difufe of folitude;
"If, long confin'd to fires and screens,
"You dread the waving of thefe greens;

"If you, who long have breath'd the fumes

"Of city-fogs and crowded rooms,

"Do now folicitously shun

"The cooler air and dazzling fun; "If his majestic eye you flee,

"Learn hence t' excufe and pity me.
"Confider what it is to bear

"The powder'd courtier's witty fneer;
"To fee th' important man of dress
Scoffing my college-aukwardness;}
"To be the ftrutting cornet's fport,
"To run the gauntlet of the court,

Winning my way by flow approaches,

Through crowds of coxcombs and of coaches, "From the firft fierce cockaded centry, "Quite through the tribe of waiting-gentry; "To pafs fo many crowded ftages, "And ftand the staring of your pages; "And, after all, to crown my fpleen, "Be told-"You are not to be feen:" "Or, if you are, be forc'd to bear "The awe of your majestic air. "And can I then be faulty found, "In dreading this vexatious round? "Can it be ftrange, if I eschew "A fcene fo glorious and fo new? "Or is he criminal that flies "The living luftre of your eyes?"

THE

THE DEAN'S MANNER OF LIVING.

N rainy days alone I dine

ON a

Upon a chick and pint of wine.

On rainy days I dine alone,

And pick my chicken to the bone:
But this my fervants much enrages,
No scraps remain to fave board-wages.
In weather fine 1 nothing spend,
But often fpunge upon a friend:
Yet, where he 's not fo rich as I,
I pay my club, and fo good b' ye.

VERSES MADE FOR FRUIT-WOMEN, &c.