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But if a slumber haply does invade
Thus do I live, from pleasure quite debarr’d,
thet (Vain efforts!) still the battering waves rush in, Implacable; till, delug'd by the foam, The ship sinks found'ring in the vast abyss.
Miss Molly, a fam'd toast, was fair and young,
Sir John was smitten and confess'd his flame,
Tho'he and all the world allow'd her wit, Her voice was shrill, and rather loud than sweet; When she began,--for hat and sword he'd call; Then, after a faint kiss,-cry, “B'y', dear Moll: " Supper and friends expect me at the Rose." “ And, what, Sir John, you'll get your usual dose ? " Go, stink of smoke, and guzzle nasty wine; « Sure, never virtuous love was us'd like mine!"
Oft', as the watchful bellman march'd his round, At a fresh bottle gay Sir John he found. By four the knight would get his business done, And only then reel'd off, because alone. Full well he knew the dreadful storm to come; But, arm'd with Bourdeaux, he dust venture home.
My lady with her tongue was still prepar’d, She rattled loud, and he impatient heard : os 'Tis a fine hour! In a sweet pickle made! " And this, Sir John, is every day the trade. “ Here I sit moping all the live-long night, " Devour'd with spleen, and stranger to delight;
"'Till morn sends stagg'ring home a drunken beast, “ Resolv'd to break my heart, as well as rest."[spouse!
“ Hey! Hoop! d'ye hear, my dam'd obstrep'rous “ What, can't you find one bed about the house? “ Will that perpetual clack lie never still? " That rival to the softness of a mill!” Some couch and distant room must be my
choice, Where I may sleep uncurs'd with wife and noise.
Long this uncomfortable life they led, With snarling meals, and each a separate bed. To an old uncle oft' she would complain, Beg his advice, and scarce from tears refrain. oid Wisewood smok'd the matter as it was, “ Cheer up!" cry'd he, “and I'll remove the cause."
" A wond'rous spring within my garden flows, “ Of sov'reign virtue, chiefly to compose “ Domestic jars, and matrimonial strife, “ The best elixir t'appease man and wife; ( Strange are th' effects, the qualities divine, " 'Tis water call'd; but worth its weight in wine. * If, in his sullen airs, Sir John should come, [mums "6. Three spoonfuls take, hold in your mouth-then “ Smile, and look pleas'd, when he shall rage & scold, 6. Still in your mouth the healing cordial hold; 6. One month this sympathetic medicine try'd, " He'll grow a lover, you a happy bride. 6 But, dearest niece, keep this grand secret close, " Or ev'ry pratt’ling hussey 'll beg a dose.”
A water-bottle's brought for her relief;
• The bonny knight reels home, exceeding clear, Prepard for clamour, and domestic war. Entering, he cries--" Hey! where 's our thunder “ No hurricane ? Betty 's your lady dead ?” [fled? Madam, aside, an ample mouthful takes, Curt'sies, looks kind, but not a word she speaks.
Wond'ring, he star'd, scarcely his eyes believ'd,
For many days these fond endearments pass’d. ·
" Why, niece,” says he, -—- I prithee apprehend, 1" The water 's water;—be thyself thy friend; " Such beauty would the coldest husband warm, " But your provoking tongue undoes the charm; “ Be silent and complying;-you'll soon find, • Sir John, without a med'cine, will be kind."
LORD CHESTERFIELD'S ADVICE TO
LADY FANNY SHIRELY.
Asses milk, half a pint, take at seven, or before;
like your wit, is as mild as 'tis clear:
wit: Let this be indulg'd, and let laughter go round; As it pleases your mind, to your health 't will redound. After dinner two glasses at least, I approve; Name the first to the king, and the last to your love: Thus cheerful, with wisdom, with innocence gay, And calm with your joys, gently glide thro' the day. The dews of the evening most carefully shun, They are tears of the sky for the loss of the sun. Then in chat, or at play, with a dance or a song, Let the night, like the day, pass with pleasure along. All care, but of Love, banish far from your mind, And those you may end, when you please to be kind.