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Janus on New-Year's Day.

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Written in the Year 1729.

WO-fac'd Janus, God of Time,

Be my Phabus while I rhime.
To oblige your Crony St,
Bring our Dame a New-Year's Gift:
She has got but half a Face;
Fanus, fince thou haft a Brace,
To my Lady once be kind;
Give her half thy Face behind.

GOD of Time, if you be wife,
Look not with your future Eyes:
What imports thy forward Sight?
Well, if you could lose it quite.
Can you take Delight in viewing
This poor Ifle's approaching Ruin?

When

When thy Retrospection vast,

Sees the glorious Ages past.

HAPPY Nation were we blind,
Or, had only Eyes behind.

DROWN your Morals, Madam cryes;
I'll have none but forward Eyes:
Prudes decay'd about may tack,
Strain their Necks with looking back:
Give me Time when coming on:
Who regards him when he's gone?
By the Dn though gravely told,
New Years help to make me old;
Yet I find, a New-Years Lace
Burnishes an old Year's Face.
Give me Velvet and Quadrille,
I'll have Youth and Beauty ftill.

Voi, II,

H h

DRAPIER'S

DRAPIER'S HILL.

E give the World to understand,

Our thriving Dn has purchas'd Land;

A Purchase which will bring him clear,
Above his Rent four Pounds a Year;
Provided, to improve the Ground,
He will but add two Hundred Pound,
And from his endless hoarded Store,
To build a House five Hundred more.
Sir Arthur too fhall have his Will,
And call the Manfion Drapier's Hill;
That when a Nation long enflav'd,
Forgets by whom it once was fav'd;

* The Gentleman of whom the Purchase was made.

When

When none the DRAPIER'S Praise shall fing;
His Signs aloft no longer fwing;

1

His Medals and his Prints forgotten,

*

And all his Handkerchiefs are rotten;

His famous LETTERS made wafte Paper;
This Hill may keep the Name of DRAPIER
In Spight of Envy flourish ftill,

And DRAPIER'S vye with COOPER'S Hill.

* Medals were caft; many Signs hung up; and Handkerchiefs made with Devices in honour of the Author, under the Name of M. B. Drapier.

Verfes on the upright Judge, who condemned the Drapier's Printer.

Written in the Year 1724.

HE Church I hate, and have good Reafon

TH

For, there my Grandfire cut his Weazon:

He cut his Weazon at the Altar;

I keep my Gullet for the Halter.

On the fame.

N Church your Grandfire cut his Throat;
To do the Jobb too long he t

He should have had my hearty Vote,

To cut his Throat before he marry'd.

On the fame.

The Judge Speaks.

'M not the Grandson of that Afs * Quin;

I'M

Nor can you prove it, Mr. Pafquin.

* An Alderman.

My