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Spectres and Heroes, Husbands and their Wives, With Monkish Drones, that dream away,

away their Lives. Long have I labour'd with the dire Disease,

Nor found, but from Ardelia's Numbers, Ease:
The dancing Verse runs thro' my sluggish Veins,
Where dull and cold the frozen Blood remains.
Pale Cares and anxious Thoughtsgive way in hafte,
And to returning Joy resign my Breast;
Then free from ev'ry Pain I did endure,
I bless the charming Author of my Cure.

So when to Saul the great Musician play'd,
The fullen Fiend unwillingly obey'd,

(Shade. And left the Monarch's Breast, to seek fome safer

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Horace, Book II. Ode IV. Imitated.

The Lord Go-, to the Earl of S----

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O not, most fragrant Earl, disclaim I Thy bright, thy reputable Flame,

To Brgle the Brown;
But publickly espouse the Dame,
And say,

Gd the Town.

Full many Heroes, fierce and keen,
With Drabs have deeply smitten been,

Although right good Commanders ;
Some who with you have Hounslow seen,

And some who've been in Flanders.


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Did not base Greber's * Peg inflame
The fober Earl of N-M?

Of fober Sire descended,
That careless of his Soul and Fame,
To Play-houses he nightly came,

And left Church undefended.


The Monarch who of France, is Hight,
Who rules the Roaft with matchless Might,

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Since WILLIAM went to Heaven;

Loves MAINTENON, his Lady bright, who was but SCARRON'S Leaving.

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* Seigniora Francesca Marguarita de l'Epine, an Italian Songstress.


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Of Proffers large her Choice had The,
Of Jewels, Plate, and Land in Fee,

Which she with Scorn rejected;

And can a Nymph so virtuous be

Of base-born Blood suspected ?


Her dimple Cheek, and roguish Eye,
Her slender Waste, and taper Thigh,

I always thought provoking;
But, faith, tho' I talk waggishly,

I mean no more than Joking.


Then be not jealous, Friend, for why?
My Lady Marchioness is nigh,


To see I ne'er shall hurt ye;

Besides, you know full well, that I

Am turn'd of five and forty.

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The RECONCILEMENT between Jacob

TONSON and Mr. CONGREVE. In Imitation of HORACE, Book III. Ode IX.


Tonfon. HILE at my House in Fleetstreet

once you lay, How merrily, dear Sir, Time pass’d away? While I partook your Wine, your Wit, and Mirth, I was the happiest Creature on * God's Tearth.

Congreve. While in your early Days of Reputation, You for blue Garters had not such a Passion;

While yet you

did not use (as now your Trade is) To drink with noble Lords, and toast their Ladies;

* Tonson (Sen.) bis Diale&t.


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