Brought in Ufe as a Covert to Nonfenfe, I'll tell ye, Read the New Pfalms with Hums, and with Ha's, and [Heaven; Tho' the Stationers ftrive, all they can, to decry 'em, And Took fwears that Thoufands of old Ones lie by 'em : Tho' the late Verfion fails of the Spirit and Force Of DAVID's Rejoycings, or DAVID's Remorse; Yet I'm not fuch a Coxcomb, 'fted of new Pfalms to learn [old, Or to quit TATE and BRADY for Hopkins and Sternhold. A Translation of Lefbia, Mi dicit femper male. Out of Catullus. I. Ach Moment of the long-liv'd Day,' E Lesbia for me does backward pray, Aud rails at me fincerely; Yet I dare pawn my Life, my Eyes, II. Why fhou'd you thus conclude, you'll fay, And And thus I hourly prove her; That Heav'n can give, or Man can bear, 5 A Song in Ridicule of a famous Musician, who was caught ferenading his Miftrefs with his BafeViol in a very frofty Night. L OOK down, fair Garretteer, beftow Who ftands below, in Froft and Snow, Thaw, with your Eyes, the frozen Street, I burn within, altho' my Feet Thrum, thrum, thrum, thrum, My Deareft, be not coy; For if you are, (Zit, zan, zounds) 1 Behold me from your lofty Tow'r, And to your Lover fhew Your Charms; and when it's in my Pow'r, I'll be as kind to you. Hither I came, with joyful Speed, And fear'd no freezing Wind; But as the Saint at Troas did, Or would you open but the Door, But fince you're coy, I know not what My Love, 'tis true, is very hor, Yet I'm too cold to stay. Chorus, as going off, Thrum, thrum, thrum, thrum, Home, home, home, home, I hate a Whore that's coy; But fince you are, (Zit, zan, zounds) 1 The Good Fellow. I. While the pious grave sot does amufe half the Na [tion With impertinent Scruples, and Zeal out of Fashion ; While Harangues, that at Church made us piously sleep, 'Mongft Prieft-ridden Cullies, fuch a Pother do keep; We'll, with trufty Champain, our Devotion refine, And thew a good Confcience by drinking our Wine. II. Let the motly dull Herd for Religion engage; III. May III. May their musty stift Volumes to Grub-Street adjourn, I ne'er pall my Fancy, or trouble my Brain With the Chances and Fate that our Starswill ordain; V. Neer tell me of those, that with factious Notion That prefumes, with vile Stum, to debauch honest Wine. Such impious Wretches may Poverty feize on, 'Tis against our Liege Bacchus the highest of Treafon. Commendatory Verfes on the Author of the Two Arthurs, and the Satyr against Wit. By feveral Hands, and collected by Mr. Brown. A fhort and true Hiftory of the Author of the Satyr against Wit. By Col. Codrington. Y Nature meant, by Want à Pedant made, BY Bl-re at first profefs'd the Whipping Trade; Grown ond of Buttocks, he would lash no more, So Quack commenc'd; then fierce with Pride, he fwore, E 2 In In vain his Drugs, as well as Birch, he try'd; To give us Drenches for the Plague of Wit. } 燒燒弟弟蕊 Upon the Author of the Satyr against Wit. A By Sir Charles Sidley. Grave Phyfician, us'd to write for Fees, And, Doctor, with the reft, e'en take thy fill. Το |