SHEPHERD.

But deer have horns; how must I keep her under?

SHEPHERD.

ECHO. Keep her under.

How shall I hold her, ne'er to part asunder?

SHEPHERD.

ECHO. A-se under.

But what can glad me, when she's laid on bier?

SHEPHERD.

ECHO. Beer.

What must I do, when woman will be kind?

Eсно. Be kind.

SHEPHERD.

What must I do, when woman will be cross?

ECHO. Be cross.

SHEPHERD.

Lord, what is she, that can so turn and wind?

Eсно. Wind.

SHEPHERD.

If she be wind, what stills her when she blows?

SHEPHERD.

Eсно. Blows.

But, if fhe bang again, still should I bang her?

SHEPHERD.

Eсно. Bang her.

Eсно. Hang her.

Is there no way to moderate her anger?

SHEPHERD.

Thanks, gentle Echo! right thy answers tell
What woman is, and how to guard her well.

ECHо. Guard her well.

EPITAPH.

ЕРІТАРН.

HERE continueth to rot

The body of FRANCIS CHARTRES;
Who, with an INFLEXIBLE CONSTANCY,
and INIMITABLE UNIFORMITY of life,

PERSISTED,

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

WEALTH:

For, without TRADE OF PROFESSION,
Without TRUST of PUBLICK MONEY,
And without BRIBE-WORTHY SERVICE,
He acquired, or more properly created,

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

not do.

O indig

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

EXAMPLE

Of how small estimation is EXORBITANT WEALTH in

the sight of
GOD,

By his bestowing it on the most UNWORTHY Of

ALL MORTALS.

JOHANNES jacet hic Mirandula-cætera norunt
Et Tagus et Ganges-forsàn et Antipodes.

APPLIED TO F. C.

HERE Francis Chartres lies *-be civil!
The rest God knows-perhaps the Devil.

EPIGRA M.

PETER complains, that God has given
To his poor babe a life so short:
Consider, Peter, he's in Heaven;
'Tis good to have a friend at court.

ANOTHER.

YOU beat your pate, and fancy wit will come :
Knock as you please, there's nobody at home.

Thus applied by Mr. Pope: " Here lies lord Coningsby."

EPITAPH OF BY-WORDS.

HERE lies a round woman, who thought mighty odd
Ev'ry word she e'er heard in this church about God.
To convince her of God the good dean did endeavour;
But still in her heart she held Nature more clever.
Tho' he talk'd much of virtue, her head always run
Upon something or other she found better fun:
For the dame, by her skill in affairs astronomical,
Imagin'd, to live in the clouds was but comical.
In this world she despis'd ev'ry soul she met here;
And now she's in t'other, she thinks it but queer.

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.

EPITAPH.

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.

EPIGRAM

EPIGRAM

ON THE TOASTS OF THE KIT-CAT CLUB.

ANNO 1716.

WHENCE deathless KIT-CAT took its name,
Few criticks can unriddle:
Some say from PASTRYCOOK it came,

And some, from CAT and FIDDle.
From no trim beaux its name it boasts,

Gray statesmen, or green

wits;

But from this pellmell pack of toasts
Of old CATS and young KITS.

TO A LADY,

WITH THE TEMPLE OF FAME.

WHAT'S fame with men, by custom of the nation,
Is call'd, in women, only reputation :

About them both why keep we such a pother?
Part you with one, and I'll renounce the other.