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And will each accidental Glance
Interpret for a kind. Advance..

But what Success Vanesa met,
Is to the World a Secret yet ;
Whether the Nymph, to please her Swain,
Talks in a high romantick Strain ;
Or whether he at last descends
To like with less Seraphick Ends ;
Or to compound the Bus'ness, whether
'T'hey temper Love and Books together ;
Must never to Mankind be told,
Nor shall the conscious Muse unfold.

Mean Time the mournful Queen of Love
Led but a weary Life above.
She ventures now to leave the Skies,
Grown by Vanelli's Conduct wife.
For tho' by one perverse Event
Pallas had cross’d her first Intent,
Tho' her design was not obtain'd,
Yet had fhe much experience gaind;
And, by the Project vainiy try'd,
Could better now the Caufe decide.

gave due Notice, that both Parties,
Coram Regina prox' die Martis,
Shou'd at their Peril without fail
Come and appear, and save their Bail.
All met, and Silence thrice proclaim'd,
One Lawyer to each Side was nam’d.



The Judge discover'd in her Face
Resentments for her late Disgrace ;
And, full of Anger, Shame, and Grief,
Directed them to mind their Brief;
Nor spend their Time to fhew their Reading ;
She'd have a summary Proceeding.
She gather'd under ev'ry Head,
The Sum of what each Lawyer. said ;
Gave her own Reasons last ; and then
Decreed the Cause against the Men.

But, in a weighty Case like this, To Thew she did not judge amiss, Which evil Tongues might else report, She made a Speech in open Court ; Wherein she grievously complains, How she was cheated by the Swains.”. On whose Petition (humbly Chewing That Women were not worth the wooing, And that unless the Sex would mend, The Race of Lovers soon must end ;) “ She was at Lord knows what Expence, To form a Nymph of Wit and Sense ; “ A Model for her Sex design'd, " Who never could one Lover find. " She saw her Favour was misplac'd ; 5. The Fellows had a wretched Taste ; “ She needs must tell them to their Face,

They were a senseless, ftupid Race;

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« And were she to begin agen,
“ She'd study to reform the Mer;
“ Or add some Grains of Folly more
To Women than they had before.

them on an equal Foot ;
“ And this, or nothing else, wou'd do't.
This might their mutual Fancy strike.
“ Since ev'ry. Being loves its Like.

“ But now, repenting what was done,
« She left all Bus'ness to her Son
“ She puts the World in his Poflession,
“ And let him use it at Discretion.”

The Cry'r was order'd to dismiss
The Court, so made his last O yes !
The Goddess wou'd no longer wait ;
But rising from her Chair of State,
Left all below at Six and Sev'n,
Harness'd her Doves, and flew to Heav'n.

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from the Eighth Book of Ovid.

N ancient Times, as Story tells,

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And Atrole about, but hide their Quality,
To try good People's Hospitali:y.

It happend on a Winter Night,
As Authors of the Legend write,
Two Brother Hermits, Saints by Trade,
Taking their Tour in Masquerade,
Disguis'd in tatter'd Habits, went
To a small Village down in Kent;
Where, in the Strollers canting Strain,
They begg’d from Door to Door in vain ;
Try'd ev'ry Tone might Pity win,
But not a Soul would let them in.

Our wand'ring Saints in woful State,
Treated at this ungodly Rate;
Having thro' all the Village pass'd,
To a small Cottage came at last ;
Where dwelt a good honest old Yeoman,
Call'd, in the Neighbourhood, Pbilemon.
Who kindly did these Saints invite
In his poor Hut to pass the Night;
And then the hofpitable Sire
Bid Goody Baucis mend the Fire ;
While he from out the Chimney took
A Flitch of Bacon off the Hook ;
And freely from the fattest Side
Cut out large Slices to be fry'd ;
Then stepp'd aside to fetch 'em Drink,
Fill'd a large Jug up to the Brink;
And saw it fairly twice go round;
Yet what is wonderful) they found


"'T' was still replenish'd to the Top,
As if they ne'er had touch'd a Drop.
The good old Couple were amaz’d,
And often on each other gaz'd;
For both were frightned to the Heart,
And just began to cry,

-What art!
Then softly turn'd aside to View,
Whether the Lights were burning blue.
The gentle Pilgrims soon aware on't,
Told 'em their Calling, and their Errant;
Good Folks, you need not be afraid,
We are but Saints, the Hermits said ;
No Hurt shall come to you or yours ;
But, for that Pack of churlish Boors,
Not fit to live on Christian Ground,
They and their Houses thall be drown'd;


shall see your Cottage rise, And grow a Church before your Eyes.

They scarce had spoke; when fair and soft, The Roof began to mount aloft ; Aloft rose ev'ry Beam and Rafter, The heavy Wall climb'd flowly after.

Tue Chimney widen'd, and grew higher, Became a Steeple with a Spire.

The Kettle to the Top was hoist, And there stood fasten'd to a Joist; But with the Upside down, to show Its Inclination for below ;

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