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But deer have horns; how must I keep her under?
ECHO. Keep her under.
How shall I hold her, ne'er to part asunder?
ECHO. A-se under.
But what can glad me, when she's laid on bier?
What must I do, when woman will be kind?
Eсно. Be kind.
What must I do, when woman will be cross?
ECHO. Be cross.
Lord, what is she, that can so turn and wind?
If she be wind, what stills her when she blows?
But, if fhe bang again, still should I bang her?
Eсно. Bang her.
Eсно. Hang her.
Is there no way to moderate her anger?
Thanks, gentle Echo! right thy answers tell
ECHо. Guard her well.
HERE continueth to rot
The body of FRANCIS CHARTRES;
In spite of AGE and INFIRMITIES, In the practice of EVERY HUMAN VICE, Excepting PRODIGALITY and HYPOCRISY: His insatiable AVARICE exempted him from the first; His matchless IMPUDENCE from the second.
Nor was he more singular in the undeviating pravity of his manners, than successful in accumulating
For, without TRADE OF PROFESSION,
A MINISTERIAL ESTATE.
He was the only person of his time, Who could CHEAT without the mask of HONESTY; Retain his primeval MEANNESS when possessed of
TEN THOUSAND a year;
And, having daily deserved the GIBBET for what he did, Was at last condemned to it for what he could
O indignant reader!
Think not his life useless to mankind! PROVIDENCE COnnived at his execrable designs, To give to after ages a conspicuous PROOF and
Of how small estimation is EXORBITANT WEALTH in
the sight of
By his bestowing it on the most UNWORTHY Of
JOHANNES jacet hic Mirandula-cætera norunt
APPLIED TO F. C.
HERE Francis Chartres lies *-be civil!
PETER complains, that God has given
YOU beat your pate, and fancy wit will come :
Thus applied by Mr. Pope: " Here lies lord Coningsby."
EPITAPH OF BY-WORDS.
HERE lies a round woman, who thought mighty odd
EPIGRAM FROM THE FRENCH.
SIR, I admit your gen'ral rule,
That ev'ry poet is a fool:
But you yourself may serve to show it,
That every fool is not a poet.
WELL then, poor G
lies under ground!
So there's an end of honest Jack.
So little justice here he found,
'Tis ten to one he'll ne'er come back.
ON THE TOASTS OF THE KIT-CAT CLUB.
WHENCE deathless KIT-CAT took its name,
And some, from CAT and FIDDle.
Gray statesmen, or green
But from this pellmell pack of toasts
TO A LADY,
WITH THE TEMPLE OF FAME.
WHAT'S fame with men, by custom of the nation,
About them both why keep we such a pother?