ERE lies old Hobson; Death hath broke his girt,

And here, alas! hath laid him in the dirt;
Or else the ways being foul, twenty to one,

He's here stuck in a slough, and overthrown.
"Twas such a shifter, that, if truth were known,
Death was half glad when he had got him down;
For he had, any time this ten years full,

Dodged with him betwixt Cambridge and The Bull.
And surely Death could never have prevail'd,

Had not his weekly course of carriage fail'd;

On the University carrier, who sickened in the time of his holiday; being forbid to go to London, by reason of the plague. It was he who established " Hobson's Choice."

But lately finding him so long at home,

And thinking now his journey's end was come,

And that he had ta'en up his latest inn,

In the kind office of a chamberlain

Show'd him his room where he must lodge that night, Pull'd off his boots, and took away the light:

If any ask for him, it shall be said,

"Hobson has supp'd, and 's newly gone to bed."

II.

HERE lieth one, who did most truly prove
That he could never die while he could move;

So hung his destiny, never to rot

While he might still jog on and keep his trot;
Made of sphere-metal, never to decay
Until his revolution was at stay.

Time numbers motion, yet (without a crime
'Gainst old truth) motion number'd out his time:
And, like an engine moved with wheel and weight,
His principles being ceased, he ended straight.
Rest, that gives all men life, gave him his death,
And too much breathing put him out of breath:
Nor were it contradiction to affirm,

Too long vacation hasten'd on his term.
Merely to drive the time away he sicken'd,

Fainted, and died, nor would with ale be quicken'd;

Nay," quoth he, on his swooning bed out-stretch'd, "If I mayn't carry, sure I'll ne'er be fetch'd, But vow, though the cross doctors all stood hearers, For one carrier put down to make six bearers." Ease was his chief disease; and, to judge right, He died for heaviness that his cart went light. His leisure told him that his time was come, And lack of load made his life burdensome,

That even to his last breath (there be that say't),

As he were press'd to death, he cried, "More weight;"

But, had his doings lasted as they were,
He had been an immortal carrier.

Obedient to the moon he spent his date
In course reciprocal, and had his fate
Link'd to the mutual flowing of the seas,

Yet (strange to think) his wain was his increase:
His letters are deliver'd all and

Only remains this superscription.

gone,

EPIGRAM.

FROM WESTMINSTER DROLLERY. 1671.]

WATCH lost in a tavern! That's a Crime;
Then see how men by drinking lose their time.

The Watch kept Time; and if Time will away, I see no reason why the Watch should stay.

You say the Key hung out, and you forgot to lock it, Time will not be kept pris'ner in a Pocket.

Henceforth, if you will keep your Watch, this do,
Pocket your Watch, and watch your Pocket, too.

HE that can sit three sermons in a day, And of those three scarce bear three words away; She that can rob her husband, to repair A budget-priest, that noses a long prayer; She that with lamp-black purifies her shoes, And with half-eyes and Bible softly goes;

She that her pockets with lay-gospel stuffs,
And edifies her looks with little ruffs;

She that loves sermons as she does the rest,
Still standing stiff that longest are the best;
She that at christenings thirsteth for more sack,
And draws the broadest handkerchief for cake;
She that sings psalms devoutly, next the street,
And beats her maid i' th' kitchen, where none see't;
She that will sit in shop for five hours space,
And register the sins of all that pass,
Damn at first sight, and proudly dares to say,
That none can possibly be sav'd but they
That hang religion in a naked ear,

And judge men's hearts according to their hair;
That could afford to doubt, who wrote best sense,
Moses, or Dod on the commandments ;
She that can sigh, and cry "Queen Elizabeth,"
Rail at the Pope, and scratch-out "sudden death:"
And for all this can give no reason why:
This is an holy-sister, verily.