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THE FURNITURE OF A WOMAN'S MIND.

Written in the year 1727.

Set of phrafes learn'd by rote;
A paffion for a scarlet coat ;
When at a play to laugh, or cry,
Yet cannot tell the reason why; ¦
Never to hold her tongue a minute,
While all fhe prates has nothing in it;
Whole hours can with a coxcomb fit,
And take his nonfenfe all for wit;
Her learning mounts to read a song,
But half the words pronouncing wrong;
Hath ev'ry repartee in store,

She spoke ten thousand times before;
Can ready compliments fupply
On all occafions, cut and dry;
Such hatred to a parfon's gown,

10.

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The fight will put her in a swoon;

For converfation well endu❜d,

She calls it witty to be rude;
And placing raillery in railling,
Will tell aloud your greateft failing;
Nor makes a fcruple to expofe
Your bandy leg, or crooked nofe;
Can at her morning-tea run o'er
The scandal of the day before;
Improving hourly in her skill,'
To cheat and wrangle at quadrille.

In chufing lace a critic nice,
Knows to a groat the lowest price;
Can in her female clubs difpute,

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What linen beft the filk will fuit,

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What colours each complexion match,
And where with art to place a patch.

If chance a mouse creeps in her fight,
Can finely counterfeit a fright;

So fweetly fcreams, if it comes near her,
She ravishes all hearts to hear her.

Can dext'rously her husband teafe,
By taking fits whene'er she please ;
By frequent practice learns the trick
At proper feasons to be fick ;

Thinks nothing give one airs fo pretty,
At once creating love and pity;
If Molly happens to be carelefs,

And but neglects to warm her hair-lace,
She gets a cold as fure as death,

And vows the scarce can fetch her breath;
Admires how modeft women can

Be fo robuftious, like a man.

In party, furious to her pow'r;
A bitter Whig, or Tory four;
Her arguments directly tend
Against the fide she would defend;
Will prove herself a Tory plain,
From principles the Whigs maintain;
And to defend the Whiggish cause,
Her topics from the Tories draws.
* ! if any man can find

O yes

More virtues in a woman's mind,

Let them be fent to Mrs Harding +;

She'll pay the charges to a farthing:

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To add them in the next edition

They may outfell a better thing:

So, holla boys; God fave the King.

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O yes a corruption of oyez, hear ye; a word used by crieṛs. † A Printer.

Clever TOM CLINCH going to be hanged..

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Written in the year 1727.

S clever Tom Clinch, while the rabble was bawl
ing,

Rode ftately thro' Holburn to die in his calling,
He stopt at the George for a bottle of fack,
And promis'd to pay for it when he came back.
His waistcoat, and ftockings, and breeches were

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His cap had a new cherry ribband to tye't.
The maids to the doors and the balconies ran,
And faid, Lack-a-day! he's a proper young man.
But as from the windows the ladies he spy'd,
Like a beau in the box, he bow'd low on each fide;
And when his laft fpeech the loud hawkers did cry,
He fwore from his cart, it was all a damn'd lie.
The hangman for pardon fell down on his knee ;-
Tom gave him a kick in the guts for his fee:
Then faid, I must speak to the people a little,
But I'll fee you all damn'd before I will whittle †.
My honeft friend Wild ‡, may he long hold his place,
He lengthen'd my life with a whole year of grace.
Take courage, dear comrades, and be not afraid,
Nor flip this occafion to follow your trade;
My confcience is clear, and my spirits are calm,
And thus I go off without pray'r-book or pfalm;
Then follow the practice of clever Tom Clinch,
Who hang like a hero, and never would flinch.
E & 3

A cant word for confeffing at the gallows.

Jonathan Wild, the noted thief-catcher, under-keeper Newgate, who was hanged for receiving stolen goods.

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On cutting down the old THORN at MARKET-HILL*.

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Written in the year 1727.

T Market-hill, as well appears

By chronicle of ancient date,
There stood for many a hundred years

A spacious thorn before the gate.
Hither cae ev'ry village-maid,
And on the bows her garland hung,
And here, beneath the spreading shade,
Secure from fatyrs fat and fung.

Sir Archibald, † that val'rous knight,

Then lord of all the fruitful plain, Would come to liften with delight, For he was fond of rural ftrain.

(Sir Archibald, whose fav'rite name Shall ftand for ages on record,

By Scottish bards of highest fame,

Wife Hawthornden and Stirling's Lord .)

But Time with iron teeth, I ween,

Has canker'd all its branches round;

No fruit or bloffom to be seen,

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'Its head reclining tow'rds the ground.

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This aged, fickly, fapless thorn,

Which muft, alas! no longer ftand, Behold the cruel Dean in fcorn

Cuts down with facrilegious hand.

* A village near the feat of Sir Arthur Achefon, where the Dean fometimes made a long vifit.

↑ Sir Archibald Achefon, Secretary of State for Scotland.

Drummond of Hawthornden, and Sir William Alexander, Earl of Stirling, who were both friends to Sir Archibald, and famous for their poetry.

Dame Nature when the faw the blow,

Astonish'd gave a dreadful shriek ;

And mother Tellus trembled fo,

She scarce recover'd in a week.

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The fylvan pow'rs with fear perplex'd,

In prudence and compaffion sent

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(For none could tell whofe turn was next)

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The ruin of her ancient feat;

And fled in hafte with all her brood,

To feek a more fecure retreat.

Laft trotted forth the gentle fwine,

To ease her itch against the stump,

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And difmally was heard to whine,

All as she scrubb'd her meazly rump,

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The nymph who dwells in ev'ry tree,

(If all be true that poets chant), Condemn'd by fate's fupreme decree,

Muft die with her expiring plant. Thus when the gentle Spina found

The thorn committed to her care,

Receiv'd its last and deadly wound,

She fled, and vanish'd into air.

But from the root a dismal groan

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"Thou chief contriver of my fall,

"Relentless Dean, to mifchief born;

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