The eager bridegroom furfeits on her charms,
And fills his belly, as he fills his arms.
Juftly may they condemn our foolish pride,
Who only for the naked back provide ;
And useless garments to the dunghill caft,
Before they've through the hungry stomach pass'd;
Who well might purchase, had we their good sense,
Both food and raiment at the fame expence.
When will our wives and daughters be fo good,
Thus to convert their old cloaths into food?
TONEST William, an eafy and good-natur'd fellow,
H Word a little too oft get a little too mellow.
Body coachman was he to an eminent brewer
No better e'er fat in a box, to be sure.
His coach was kept clean, and no mothers or nurses
Took that care of their babes that he took of his horfes.
He had thefeay and fifty good qualities more,
But the business of tipling cou'd ne'er be got o'er :
So his mafter effectually mended the matter,
By hiring a man, who drank nothing but water.
Now, William, fays he, you see the plain case;
Had you drunk as he does, you'd kept a good place.
Drink water! quoth William
You'd never have wanted a coachman, I trow.
They're foakers, like me whom you load with reproaches,
With a chopping brave boy, and fometimes with apair;
"Till the primitive bleffing of multiplication
Had fill'd the whole house with a young generation.
But as that increased, fo forrow and care,
Thofe primitive curfes, put in for a fhare;
And the toilfome employments of mother and wife,
Had hag'd the poor woman half out of her life,
To the doctor she goes with a pitiful face,
And begs he wou'd give his advice in her case.
She tells him her husband was wretchedly poor,
And prays he'd confider her chargeable store,
And prevent for the future her having of more.
As for that, quoth the fage, I've a cure never failing,
Which neither Hippocrates thought of, nor Galen.
Look here I prefent you this wonderful hofe,
Into which, ev'ry night when you bed with your spouse,
Thrust both legs; nor pull off the magical fetters,
Till you rife in the morn about family matters.
Obferve but this rule, which I give you in charge,
And your stock may diminish, but never enlarge.
Many thanks for your kindness, dear Sir, quoth the dame,
(Here she drop'd him a curt'fie)—if it were not for shame,
And for fear you shou'd think me too bold, I'd fain beg
T'other fhocking and fo have a hose to each leg:
For if fuch rare virtue's contained in one,
How fafe fhou'd I be, had I both of them on!
UOTH John to his teacher, Good Sir, if you please,
I wou'd beg your advice in a difficult cafe;
"Tis a weighty concern, that may hold one for life—---
"Tis, in short, the old story of taking a wife.
There's a pair of young damfels I'm proffer'd to marry,
And whether to choose puts me in a quandary:
They're alike in age, family, fortune, and feature,
Only one has more grace, and the other good-nature.
As for that, fays the teacher, good-nature and love,
And sweetness of temper are gifts from above,
And as coming from thence we fhou'd give 'em their due;
Grace is a fuperior bleffing, 'tis true.
Ay, Sir, I remember an excellent farment,
Wherein all along you gave grace the preferment.
I shall never forget it, as how you were telling,
That heaven refided where grace had its dwelling.
Why John, quoth the teacher, that's true: but, alas,
What heaven can do is quite out of the case;
For by day and by night, with the woman you wed
'Tis you that must board, and 'tis you that must bed;
And a good-natur'd girl may quickly grow gracious,
But a four-headed faint will be ever vexatious.
ONG time did a filly old proverb prevail,
That meat, drink, and cloth were all found in good afe 'Till a lover of truth went on purpose to Hull, And to try the experiment drank his skin full. He began to fee visions, his head it turn'd round, 'Till off from his keffal he fell on the ground: There in trances profound our philofopher mellow Lay all night in the fnow confulting his pillow. T3
Oracular vapours give prophecy birth,
As Plutarch reports, springing out of the earth.
Whether this was the caufe, or however infpir'd,
Our fage gave a fentence will be ever admir'd.
'Twas this-I pronounce that good ale is good meat,
For I find, I have no inclination to eat :
That good ale is good cloth, you may honeftly boaft,
For i' faith! I'm as blithe and as warm as a toast
But to call it good drink-is a lye, I'll be fworn,
For I ne'er was fo dry fince the hour I was born.
The cloth, cries a punfter who chanc'd to come by,
Must be a good drap, if it kept you fo dry.
T blew an hard ftorm, and in utmoft confufion
I The Vailors all hurried to get abfolution
IT blew an hard form,
Which done, and the weight of the fins they'd confefs'd,
Was transfer'd, as they thought, from themfelves to the priest
To lighten the fhip, and conclude their devotion,
They tofs'd the poor parfon fouse into the ocean.
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