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"I'm conscious of my guilt, 'tis true,

"But yet I know my frailty too;

"A flight rebuke will never do.

"Urge home my faults-come in, I pray"Let not my foul be cast away."

Wife Ebony, who deem'd it good T'encourage by all means he could These first appearances of grace, Follow'd up stairs, and took his place. The bottle and the crust appear'd,

And wily Tom demurely fneer'd.

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My duty, fir!"-" Thank you, kind Tom!”— "Again, an't please you !"-Thank you! Come-" "Sorrow is dry-I muft once more—”

"Nay Tom, I told you at the door

"I would not drink-what! before dinner?"Not one glass more, as I 'm a sinner—

"Come, to the point in hand; is 't fit "A man of your good fenfe and wit

"Thofe parts which heaven bestow'd should drown, "A butt to all the fots in town?

"Why tell me, Tom-What fort can stand

66 (Though regular, and bravely mann'd)
"If night and day the fierce foe plies
"With never-ceafing batteries;

"Will there not be a breach at laft?"

"Uncle, 'tis true-forgive what 's past." "But if nor intereft, nor fame,

"Nor health, can your dull foul reclaim,

"Haft

"Haft not a confcience, man? no thought "Of an hereafter? dear are bought

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"Kind fir-but give your zeal a vent—”
Then, pouting, hung his head; yet still
Took care his uncle's glafs to fill,
Which as his hurry'd fpirits funk,
Unwittingly, good man! he drunk.
Each pint, alas! drew on the next,'
Old Ebony ftuck to his text,
Grown warm, like any angel fpoke,
Till intervening hiccups broke

The well-ftrung argument. Poor Tom
Was now too forward to reel home.
That preaching ftill, this ftill repenting,
Both equally to drink confenting,
Till both brimfull could fwill no more,
And fell dead drunk upon the floor.
Bacchus, the jolly God, who fate
Wide-straddling o'er his tun in state,
Close by the window fide, from whence
He heard this weighty conference;
Joy kindling in his ruddy cheeks,
Thus the indulgent godhead fpeaks:
"Frail mortals, know, Reafon in vain
"Rebels, and would disturb my reign.
See there the fophifter o'erthrown,
"With stronger arguments knock'd down

‹‹ Than e'er in wrangling schools were known!

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"The

"The wine that sparkles in this glass
"Smooths every brow, gilds every face:
"As vapours when the fun appears,
"Far hence anxieties and fears:

"Grave ermin fmiles, lawn fleeves grow gay,
"Each haughty monarch owns my sway,
"And cardinals and popes obey:
"Ev'n Cato drank his glafs, 'twas I
"Taught the brave patriot how to die
"For injur'd Rome and Liberty;
"'Twas I, who with immortal lays
"Infpir'd the bard that fung his praise.
"Let dull unfociable fools

"Loll in their cells, and live by rules;
"My votaries, in gay delight

"And mirth, fhall revel all the night;
"Act well their parts on life's dull stage,
"And make each moment worth an age."

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THE NIGHT-WALKER RECLAIM'D:

A TA L E.

IN those bleft days of jubilee,

When pious Charles fet England free

From canting and hypocrify;

Moft graciously to all restoring

Their antient privilege of whoring;

There liv'd, but 'tis no matter where,
The fon of an old cavalier;

Of

Of ancient lineage was the fquire,

A man of mettle and of fire;

Clean-shap'd, well-limb'd, black-ey’d, and táll,

Made a good figure at a ball,
And only wanted wherewithal.
His penfion was ill-paid and strait,
Full many a loyal hero's fate :
Often half starv'd, and often out
At elbows, an hard cafe, no doubt.
Sometimes perhaps a lucky main
Prudently manag'd in Long-Lane
Repair'd the thread-bare beau again;
And now and then some secret favours,
The kind returns of pious labours,
Enrich'd the strong and vigorous lover,
His honour liv'd a while in clover.
For (to say truth) it is but just,
Where all things are decay'd but lust,
That ladies of maturer ages
Give citron-water and good wages.

Thus far Tom Wild had made a shift,
And got good helps at a dead lift;
But John, his humble meagre flave,
One foot already in the grave,
Hide-bound as one of Pharaoh's kine,
With good Duke Numps was forc'd to dine :
Yet ftill the thoughtful serious elf
Would not be wanting to himself ;
Bore up against both tide and wind,
Turn'd every project in his mind,
And each expedient weigh'd, to find
A a

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A re

A remedy in this distress.

Some God—(nay, fir, suppose no less,
For in this hard and knotty cafe,
T'employ a God is no difgrace;
Though Mercury be fent from Jove,
Or Iris wing it from above)
Some God, I fay, inspir'd the knave,
His mafter and himself to fave.

As both went fupperlefs to bed
One night (fift fcratching of his head)
"Alas!" quoth John," fir, 'tis hard fare
"To fuck one's thumbs, and live on air;
"To reel from pillar unto poft,
“An empty shade, a walking ghost;
"To hear one's guts make piteous moan,
"Those worst of duns, and yet not one,
"One mouldy fcrap to fatisfy
"Their craving importunity.

"Nay-good your honour please to hear"
(And then the varlet dropt a tear)
"A project form'd in this dull brain,
"Shall fet us all adrift again;

"A project, fir, nay, let me tell ye,
"Shall fill your pockets, and my belly.
"Know then, old Gripe is dead of late,
"Who purchas'd at an easy rate,
"Your manor-house and fine estate.
"Nay, ftare not, fir: by G- 'tis true
The devil for once has got his due:

w

"The

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