'SQUIRE. Preferment, I fuppofe, is what you mean; Turn Whig, and you, perhaps, may be a dean : What's here? fure fome strange news, a boy with letters; Oh, ho! here's one, I fee, from parfon SLY: 66 My rev'rend neighbour SQUAB being like to die ; "I hope, if Heav'n fhould please to take him hence, "To afk the living would be no offence." PARSON. Have you not swore, that I fhou'd SQUAB fucceed? Think how for this I taught your fons to read; How oft discover'd pufs on new-plow'd land, 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, I am, you know, a right true-hearted Tory, 'SQUIRE. Thou art an honest dog, that's truth, indeed— 'Tis thine; but first a bumper to the best, PARSON. } Moft noble 'Squire, more gen'rous than your wine, How pleafing's the condition you affign? Give me the sparkling glafe, and here, d'ye see, 5 Dispenses mitres, coronets, and stars; Then bids wars fnaky treffes cease to hiss, 'SQUIRE, rubbing his hands. With all my heart. * Madam de Pompadour, N 2 ON GIVEN TO A LADY WITH A WATCH WHICH SHE BORROWED TO HANG AT HER BED'S HEAD. W HILST half afleep my CHLOE lies, And all her sostest thoughts arise; To greet with joy her dawning eyes. Tell her as all thy motions ftand, Unless recruited by her hand, Shall |