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But the hase mifer starves amidst his store,
Broods on his gold, and, griping still at more,
Sits sadly pining, and believes he's

poor.
The ragged beggar, though he want relief,
Has not to lose, and fings before the thief.
Want is a bitter and a hateful good,
Because its virtues are not understood :
Yet many things, impoffible to thought,
Have been by need to full perfection brought :
The daring of the soul proceeds from thence,
Sharpness of wit, and active diligence;
Prudence at once, and fortitude, it gives,
And, if in patience taken, mends our lives ;:
For ev,'n that indigence, that brings me low,
Makes me myself, and Him above, to know.
A good which none would challenge, few would choofer
A fair possession, which mankind refusę.
If we from wealth to poverty descend,
Want gives to know the flatterer from the friend.
If I am old and ugly, well for you,
No lewd adulterer will my love pursue;
Nor jealousy, the bane of marry'd life,
Shall haunt you for a wither'd homely, wife;
For age and ugliness, as all agree,
Are the best guards of female chastity.

Yet since I see your mind is worldly bent,
I'll do my best to further your content.
And therefore of two gifts in my dispofe,
Thinik ere you {peak, I grant you leave to choofe;

Would

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Would

you

I should be ftill deform'd and old,
Nauseous to touch, and loathsome to behold;
On this condition to remain for life
A careful, tender, and obedient wife,
In all I can contribute to your ease,
And not in deed, or word, or thought, displease ?
Or would you rather have me young and fair,
And take the chance that happens to your

share
Temptations are in beauty, and in youth,
And how can you depend upon my truth ?
Now weigh the danger with the doubtful bliss,
And thank yourself if aught should fall amiss.

Sore figli'd the knight, who this long sermon heard;
At length, considering all, his heart he cheard;
And thus reply'd: My lady and my wife,
To
your

wise conduct I resign my life: Choose for for well

you

understand The future good and ill, on either hand : But if an humble husband may request, Provide, and order all things for the best; Your's be the care to profit, and to please : And let your subject servant take his ease.

Then thus in peace, quoth she, concludes the strife, Since I am turn'd the husband, you the wife: The matrimonial victory is mine, Which, having fairly gain'd, I will refign; Forgive if I have said or done amiss, And seal the bargain with a friendly kiss : 1 promis'd you but one content to share, But now I will become both good and fair,

No

you

mé,

No nuptial quarrel shall disturb your ease;
The business of my life shall be to please :
And for my beauty, that, as time mall try ;
But draw the curtain first, and cast your eye.
He look'd, and saw a creature heavenly fair,
In bloom of youth, and of a charming air.
With joy' he turn'd, and seiz’d her ivory arm ;
And like Pygmalion found the statue warm.
Small arguments there needed to prevail,
A storm of kisses pour'd as thick as hail.
Thus long in nutual bliss they lay embrac'd,
And their first love continued to the last :
One funline was their life, no cloud between ;
Nor ever was a kinder couple seen.
And fo

may

all our lives like theirs be led ; Heaven send the inaids young husbands fresh in bed; May widows wed as often as they can, And ever for the better change their man ; And some devouring plague pursue their lives, Who will not well be govern’d by their wives.

THE

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A Parish priest was of the pilgrim-train ;

An awful, reverend, and religious man.
His eyes diffus'd a venerable grace,
And charity itself was in his face.
Rich was his soul, though his attire was poor
(As God had cloth'd his own ambassador);
For such, on earth, his bless'd redeemer bore.
Of fixty years he seem'd; and well might last
To fixty more, but that he liv'd too fast;
Refin’d himself to soul, to curb the sense ;
And made almost a sin of abstinence.
Yet, had his aspect nothing of severe,
But such a face as promis’d him sincere.
Nothing resery'd or sullen was to see :
But fweet regards, and pleafing sanctity :
Mild was his accent, and his action free.
With eloquence innate his tongue was arm’d;
Though harsh the precept, yet the people charm’d.
For, letting down the golden chain from high,
He drew his audience upward to the sky:
And oft with holy hymns he charm’d their ears
(A music more melodious than the spheres):

}

For

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For David left him, when he went to rest,
His lyre; and after him he sung the best.

He bore his great commission in his look:
But sweetly temper'd awe; and soften'd all he spoke.
He preach'd the joys of heaven, and pains of hell,
And warn’d the finner v'ith becoming zeal ;
But on eternal mercy lov'd to dwell.
He taught the gospel rather than the law;
And forc'd himself to drive; but lov'd to draw.
For fear but freezes minds : 'but love, like heat,
Exhales the soul fublime, to seek her native seat,
To threats the stubborn finner oft is hard,
Wrapp'd in his crimes, against the storm prepard
But, when the milder beams of mercy play,
He melts, and throws his cumbrous cloak away.
Lightning and thunder (heaven's artillery)
As harbingers before th' Almighty fly :
Those but proclaim his stile, and disappear;
The stiller sound fucceeds, and God is there.

The tithes, his parifh freely paid, he took;
But never sued, or curš’d with bell and book.
With patience bearing wrong; but offering none::
Since every man is free to lose his own.
"The country churls, according to their kind,
(Who grudge their dues, and love to be behind),
The less he fought his offerings, pinch'd the more,
And prais'd a priest contented to be poor.

Yet of his little he had some to fpare,
To feed the famill’d, and to clothe the båre:

For

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