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Toaft church and queen, explain the news,
TALE OF CHAUCER,
WOMEN, though nat fans leacherie,
Ne fwinken but with fecrecie:
This in our tale is plain y-fond,
But, as he gloz'd with speeches foote, The ducke fore tickleth his erfe roote: Fore-piece and buttons all to-breft, Forth thruft a white neck and red creft. Te-he, cry'd ladies; clerke nought fpake; Mifs ftar'd; and gray ducke crieth quaake. "O moder, moder, (quoth the daughter) “Be thilke fame thing maids longen a'ter ? "Bette is to pyne on coals and chalke, "Then trust on mon, whofe yerde can talke.
* THE ALLEY.
An Imitation of SPENCER.
IN ev'ry town where Thamis rolls his tide A narrow pass there is, with houses low; Where ever and anon the stream is ey'd,
And many a boat soft fliding to and fro: There oft' are heard the notes of infant woe, The fhort thick fob, loud scream, and shriller fquall:
How can ye, mothers, vex your children so? Some play, fome eat, fome cack against the
wall, And, as they crouchen low, for bread and butter call.
And on the broken pavement here and there
And here a failor's jacket hangs to dry; At ev'ry door are fun-burnt matrons feen, Mending old nets to catch the fcaly fry ; Now finging fhrill, and fcolding oft between; Scolds anfwer foul-mouth'd fcolds; bad neighbourhood, I ween.
The fnappifh cur (the paffengers annoy) Close at my heel with yelping treble flies; The whimp'ring girl and hoarfer-screaming boy
Join to the yelping treble fhrilling cries; The fcolding quean to louder notes doth rife,
And her full pipes those fhrilling cries confound;
To her full pipes the grunting hog replies; The grunting hogs alarm the neighbours round,
And curs, girls, boys, and scolds, in the deep bafe are drown'd.
Hard by a fty, beneath a roof of thatch, Dwelt Obloquy, who in her early days Baskets of fish at Billingsgate did watch, Cod, whiting, oyfter, mackrel, sprat, or plaice:
There learn'd the speech from tongues that never cease.
Slander befide her, like a magpye chatters, With Envy (fpitting cat) dread foe to peace; Likea curs'd cur, Malice before her clatters, And, vexing ev'ry wight, tears cloaths and all to tatters.
Her dugswere mark'd by ev'ry collier's hand, Her mouth was black as bull-dogs at the ftall:
She scratched, bit, and fpar'd ne lace ne band;
And bitch and rogue her answer was to all; Nay, e'en the parts of fhame by name wou'd call.
Whene'er she paffed by a lane or nook, Wou'd greet the man who turn'd him to the wall,
And by his hand obfcene the porter took,
Such place hath Deptford, navy-building
Woolwich and Wapping, smelling strong of pitch:
Such Lambeth, envy of each band and gown; And Twick'nam fuch, which fairer scenes enrich,
Grots, ftatues, urns, and Jo--n's dog and bitch:
Ne village is without, on either fide,
Vales, fpires, meandring ftreams, and Windfor's tow'ry pride.
* THE CAPON'S TALE,
To a Lady who father'd her Lampoons upon her Acquaintance.
N Yorkshire dwelt a fober yeoman,
Fed num'rous poultry in her pens,