PONTIUS

AND

PONT I A.

PONTIUS (who love, you know a joke,

Much better than he loves his life)
Chanc'd t' other morning to provoke
The patience of a well-bred Wife.

Talking of you, faid he, my dear,
Two of the greatest wits in town
One ask'd, if that high furze of hair
WAS, BONA FIDE, all your own.

Her own! most certain, t 'other faid;

For Nan, who knows the thing, will tell ye, The hair was bought, the money paid,

And the receipt was fign'd Ducailly.

Pontia (that civil prudent fhe,

Who values wit much less than sense,

And never darts a repartee,

But purely in her own defence)

2

Reply'd,

Reply'd, these friends of your's, my dear,
Are given extremely much to fatine!
But pr'ythee, husband, let one hear
Sometimes lefs wit, and more good-nature.

Now I have one unlucky thought,

That would have spoil'd your friend's conceit;
Some hair I have, I'm. fure,, unbought:
Pray bring your Brother Wits to see 't.

CUPID TURNED STROLLER.

FROM

ANACRE ON

AT

T dead of night, when stars appear,

And strong Boöres turns the Bear;
When mortals sleep their cares away,
Fatigu'd with labours of the day,
Cupid was knocking at my gate;
Who's there! fays I, who knocks fo`late,
Disturbs my dreams, and breaks my reft?
O fear not me, a harmless guest,

He faid, but open, open pray;
A foolish child, I've lost my way,
And wander here this moon-light night,
All wet and cold, and wasting light.

With

With due regard his voice I heard,
Then rofe, a ready lamp prepar'd,
And faw a naked boy below,
With wings, a quiver, and a bow ;
In hafte I ran, unlock'd my gate,
Secure and thoughtlefs of my fate;
I fet the child an easy chair

Against the fire, and dry'd his hair;
Brought friendly cups of chearful wine,
And warm'd his little hands with mine.
All this did I with kind intent;
But he, on wanton mischief bent,
Said, Dearest friend, this bow you fee,
This pretty bow belongs to me:
Obferve, I pray, if all be right;
I fear the rain have spoil'd it quite.
He drew it then, and strait I found
Within my breast a secret wound.
This done, the rogue no longer staid,
But leapt away, and laughing said,
"Kind Hoft, adieu! we now must part;
"Safe is my bow, but fick thy heart!"

то

TO A

POET O F QUALITY.

PRAISING THE LADY HINCHINBROKE.

OF thy judicious Muse's sense,

Young Hinchinbroke so very proud is, That Sachariffa and Hortenfe

She looks, henceforth, upon as dowdies.

Yet fhe to one must still submit,

To dear Mamma must pay

her duty,

She wonders, praifing Wilmot's wit,

Thou should't forget his daughter's beauty:

THE

THE

PEDANT. »

LYSANDER talks extremely well;
On any subject let him dwell,

His tropes and figures will content ye :
He fhould poffefs to all degrees
The art of talk; he practifes

Full fourteen hours in four-and-twenty.

CAUTIOUS

ALICE..

So good a Wife doth Liffy make,

That from all company she flieth; Such virtuous courses doth she take,

That she all evil tongues defieth; And, for her dearest Spouse's fake, She with his Brethren only lieth.

THI