FROM Venus born, thy beauty show… But who thy father, no man knows: Nor can the skilful herald trace The founder of thy ancient race; Whether thy temper, full of fire,

As Rochefoucauld his maxims drew From Nature, I believe ‘em true: They argue no corrupted mind In him; the fault is in mankind. This maxim more than all the rest

While, Stella, to your lasting pr… The Muse her annual tribute pays, While I assign myself a task Which you expect, but scorn to ask… If I perform this task with pain,

Daphne knows, with equal ease, How to vex, and how to please; But the folly of her sex Makes her sole delight to vex. Never woman more devised

To the Priest, on Observing how m… When beasts could speak (the learn… They still can do so ev’ry day), It seems, they had religion then, As much as now we find in men.

Tormented with incessant pains, Can I devise poetic strains? Time was, when I could yearly pay My verse to Stella’s native day: But now unable grown to write,

Charming oysters I cry: My masters, come buy, So plump and so fresh, So sweet is their flesh, No Colchester oyster

Deprived of root, and branch and r… Yet flowers I bear of every kind: And such is my prolific power, They bloom in less than half an ho… Yet standers-by may plainly see

When Naboth’s vineyard look’d so… The king cried out, ‘Would this w… And yet no reason could prevail To bring the owner to a sale. Jezebel saw, with haughty pride,

A WONDERFUL age Is now on the stage: I’ll sing you a song, if I can, How modern Whigs, Dance forty-one jigs,

By haughty Celia spent in dressin… The goddess from her chamber issue… Arrayed in lace, brocades, and tis… Strephon, who found the room was v… And Betty otherwise employed,

Poor Hall, renown’d for comely ha… Whose hands, perhaps, were not so… Yet had a Jezebel as near; Hall, of small scripture conversat… Yet, howe’er Hungerford’s quotati…

On Britain Europe’s safety lies, Britain is lost if Harley dies: Harley depends upon your skill: Think what you save, or what you k…

The Dean would visit Market-hill; Our invitation was but slight; I said’€”why’€”Let him if he will… And so I bid Sir Arthur write. His manners would not let him wait…

I’m up and down, and round about, Yet all the world can’t find me ou… Though hundreds have employ’d thei… They never yet could find my measu… I’m found almost in every garden,