PRESERVED BY MACROBIUS. WHAT! no way left to shun th’ in… And save from infamy my sinking ag… Scarce half alive, oppress’d with… What in the name of dotage drives…

Good people all, of every sort, Give ear unto my song; And if you find it wondrous short, It cannot hold you long. In Islington there was a man

MADAM, I read your letter with all that a… require, but after all find so muc… my indignation, that I cannot help… I am not so ignorant, Madam, as n…

HERE lies poor Ned Purdon, from… Who long was a bookseller’s hack; He led such a damnable life in thi… I don’t think he’ll wish to come b…

HOLD! Prompter, hold! a word bef… I’d speak a word or two, to ease m… My pride forbids it ever should be… My heels eclips’d the honours of m… That I found humour in a piebald…

YE Muses, pour the pitying tear For Pollio snatch’d away; O! had he liv’d another year!- ‘He had not died to-day’. O! were he born to bless mankind,

‘Enter’ MRS. BULKLEY, ‘who curtsies very low as beginnin… Then enter’ MISS CATLEY, ‘who stands full before her, and c… MRS. BULKELEY.

IN IMITATION OF DEAN SW… LOGICIANS have but ill defin’d As rational, the human kind; Reason, they say, belongs to man, But let them prove it if they can.

‘This ’is’ a poem! This 'is’ a co… YOUR mandate I got, You may all go to pot; Had your senses been right, You’d have sent before night;

1 Of old, when Scarron… 2 Each guest brought his dish,… 3 If our landlord supplies us… 4 Let each guest bring himself… 5 Our Dean shall be venison,…

Secluded from domestic strife, Jack Book-worm led a college life… A fellowship at twenty-five Made him the happiest man alive; He drank his glass and crack’d his…

FOR you, bright fair, the nine ad… And tune my feeble voice to sing t… The heartfelt power of every charm… Who can withstand their all-comman… See how she moves along with every…

Sweet Auburn! loveliest village o… Where health and plenty cheered th… Where smiling spring its earliest… And parting summer’s lingering blo… Dear lovely bowers of innocence an…

A POETICAL EPISTLE TO… THANKS, my Lord, for your venis… Never rang’d in a forest, or smok’… The haunch was a picture for paint… The fat was so white, and the lean…

When lovely woman stoops to folly, And finds too late that men betray… What charm can soothe her melancho… What art can wash her guilt away? The only art her guilt to cover,