'SQUIRE.

Preferment, I fuppofe, is what you mean

Turn Whig, and you, perhaps, may be a dean:
But you must first learn how to treat your betters.
What's here? fure fome ftrange news, a boy with

letters;

Oh, ho! here's one, I see, from parson SLY:
"My rev'rend neighbour SQUAB being like to die;
"I hope, if Heav'n fhould please to take him hence,
"To ask the living would be no offence."

PARSON

Have

you not fwore, that I fhould SQUAB fucceed? Think how for this I taught your fons to read; How oft discover'd pufs on new-plow'd land, How oft fupported you with friendly hand;

When I cou'd scarcely go, nor cou'd your worship

ftand.

'SQUIRE.

'Twas yours, had

you

been honeft, wife, or civil;

Now ev'n go court the bishops, or the devil.

VOL. I.

N

PARSON.

PARSON.

If I meant any thing, now let me die;

I'm blunt, and cannot fawn and cant, not I,
Like that old Presbyterian rascal SLY.
I am, you know, a right true-hearted Tory,
Love a good glass, a merry fong, or story.

'SQUIRE,

Thou art an honest dog, that's truth, indeed—
Talk no more nonsense then about the creed.
I can't, I think, deny thy first request;
'Tis thine; but firft a bumper to the beft.

PARSON.

Moft noble 'Squire, more gen'rous than your wine,

How pleafing's the condition you affign?

Give me the sparkling glass, and here, d'ye fee,

With joy I drink it on my bended knee :

Great queen! who governest this earthly ball,
And mak'st both kings and kingdoms rife and fall;
Whose wond'rous pow'r in fecret all things rules,
Makes fools of mighty peers, and peers of fools;

}

Dispenses

Dispenses mitres, coronets, and stars;

Involves far distant realms in bloody wars,

Then bids wars fnaky treffes ceafe to hifs,

And gives them peace again-* nay gave us this:
Whofe health does health to all mankind impart,
Here's to thy much-lov'd health:

'SQUIRE, rubbing his hands.

With all my heart.

GIVEN TO A LADY

WITH A WATCH WHICH SHE BORROWED TO HANG

at her bed'S HEAD.

HILST half afleep my CHLOE lies,

WHI

And all her softeft thoughts arise;
Whilft, tyrant Honour lay'd at reft,
Love fteals to her unguarded breaft;
Then whisper to the yielding Fair,
Thou witness to the pains I bear,
How oft her flave with open eyes,
All the long night despairing lies;
Impatient till the rofy day

Shall once again its beams display,
And with it he again may rise,

To greet with joy her dawning eyes.
Tell her as all thy motions stand,
Unless recruited by her hand,
So fhall my life forget to move;
Unless each day, the Fair I love

Shall

Shall new repeated vigour give
With fmiles, and make me fit to live.
Tell her, when far from her I ftray,
How oft I chide thy flow delay;

But when beneath her fmiles I live,
Bleft with all joys the Gods can give,
How often I reprove thy haste,

And think each precious moment flies too fast.