A friend, who, weigh'd with yours, must prize Domitian's idle paffion; That wrought the death of teazing flies, But ne'er their propagation. Let Flavia's eyes more deeply warm, And speak with some respect of beaux, The EXTENT of COOKERY. "Aliufque et idem." WHEN Tom to Cambridge first was fent, A plain brown bob he wore; Read much, and look'd as though he meant To be a fop no more. See him to Lincoln's Inn repair, His refolution flag; He cherishes a length of hair, And tucks it in a bag. Nor Coke nor Salkeld he regards, But gets into the house, And foon a judge's rank rewards His pliant votes and bows. Adieu, ye bobs! ye bags, give place! Full bottoms come inftead! Good Lord! to fee the various ways Of dreffing-a calve's head! The PROGRESS of ADVICE. A Common CASE. "Suade, nam certum eft." AYS Richard to Thomas (and feem'd half afraid) SAYS "I am thinking to marry thy miftrefs's maid: Nay don't make a jeft on't; 'tis no jest to me; Said Thomas to Richard, " To speak my opinion. A BALLA D. «Trahit fua quemque voluptas." ROM Lincoln to London rode forth our young fquire, FRO To bring down a wife, whom the fwains might admire: But, in spite of whatever the mortal could fay, The goddess objected the length of the way! To give up the opera, the park, and the ball, Nor a laceman to plague in a morning-not fle! 1 To forfake the dear play-house, Quin, Garrick, and Clive, But Ranelagh foon would her footsteps recall, And the mufic, the lamps, and the glare of Vauxhall. To be fure fhe could breathe no where elfe but in town, Thus fhe talk'd like a wit, and he look'd like a clown; But the while honeft Harry defpair'd to fuccecd, A coach with a coronet trail'd her to Tweed. SLENDER's Ghoft. Vide SHAKESPEAR.. ENEATH a church-yard yew, BE Decay'd and worn with age, At dusk of eve methought I spy'd Poor Slender's ghoft, that whimpering cryed, O fweet, O fweet Anne Page! Ye gentle bards! give ear! Who talk of amorous rage, Who fpoil the lily, rob the rose, Come learn of me to weep your woes; Why should fuch labour'd ftrains I never dreamt of flame or dart, And you! whofe love-fick minds O fweet, O fweet Anne Page! And ye! whofe fouls are held, Like linnets in a cage! Who talk of fetters, links, and chains, Attend and imitate my ftrains! O fweet, O fweet Anne Page! And you who boast or grieve, many an eye; Yet mean as I do, when I figh, Hence every fond conceit Of fhepherd or of fage; 'Tis Slender's voice, 'tis Slender's way The INVIDIOUS. 'Fortune! if my prayer of old MART. With better grace thou may'ft allow Fain would I fee Lividio fwing! Hear him, from Tyburn's height haranguing, And he will tye the knot himself. *The |