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All met; and, filence thrice proclaim'd,
One lawyer to each fide was nam’d.
The judge difcover'd in her face
Refentments for her late difgrace;
And, full of anger, fhame, and grief,
Directed them to mind their brief;
Nor fpend their time to fhew their reading;
She'd have a fummary proceeding.
She gather'd under ev'ry head
The fum of what each lawyer faid,
Gave her own reafons laft, and then
Decreed the cause against the men.
But, in a weighty cafe like this
To fhew she did not judge amifs,
Which evil tongues might elfe report,
She made a fpeech in open court;
Wherein the grievoufly complains,
“How fhe was cheated by the swains ;”
On whofe petition (humbly fhewing
That women were not worth the wooing,
And that, unless the fex would mend,
The race of lovers foon must end)
"She was at lord knows what expence
“ To form a nymph of wit and sense,
"A model for her fex defign'd,
"Who never could one lover find.
"She faw, her favour was mifplac'd;
"The fellows had a wretched tafte ;

" She

"She needs muft tell them to their face, They were a fenfelefs, ftupid race; "And, were fhe to begin agen, "She'd study * to reform the men; "Or add some grains of folly more "To women, than they had before, "To put them on an equal foot; "And this, or nothing elfe, wou'd do't. "This might their mutual fancy ftrike; "Since ev'ry being loves its like.

"But now, repenting what was done, "She left all bus nefs to her fon; "She puts the world in his poffeffion, "And let him use it at difcretion." The cry'r was order'd to dismiss The court, fo made his laft O yes! The Goddess wou'd no longer wait; But, rifing from her chair of ftate, Left all below at fix and fev'n, Harness'd her doves, and flew to heav'n.

* As the women in their manners and dress imitate what the men approve, their faults and follies are little more than

the confequences of the falfe tafte of their admirers, who cannot furely be urged by a fronger motive to correct it.




Imitated from the


ancient times, as ftory tells,

The faints wou'd often leave their cells, And ftrole about, but hide their quality, To try good people's hospitality.

It happen'd on a winter night,
As authors of the legend write,
Two brother hermits, faints by trade,
Taking their tour in masquerade,
Difguis'd in tatter'd habits, went
To a small village down in Kent;
Where, in the stroller's canting ftrain,
They begg'd from door to door in vain,
Try'd ev'ry tone might pity win;
But not a foul would let them in.
Our wand'ring faints in woful state,
Treated at this ungodly rate,

Having through all the village pass'd,
To a small cottage came at laft;
Where dwelt a good old honeft ye'man,
Call'd in the neighbourhood Philemon
Who kindly did these faints invite
In his poor hut to pass the night;


And then the hofpitable fire
Bid goody Baucis mend the fire;
While he from out the chimney took
A flitch of bacon off the hook,
And freely from the fatteft fide
Cut out large flices to be fry'd;
Then stepp'd afide to fetch 'em drink,
Fill'd a large jug up to the brink,
And faw it fairly twice go round;
Yet (what is wonderful !) they found,
'Twas still replenish'd to the top,
As if they had not touch'd a drop..
The good old couple were amaz'd, .
And often on each other gaz'd;
For both were frighten'd to the heart,
And just began to cry,--- What ar't!
Then foftly turn'd afide to view
Whether the lights were burning blue.
The gentle pilgrims, foon aware on't,
Told them their calling, and their errant ;
Good folks, you need not be afraid,
We are but faints, the hermits faid;
No hurt fhall come to you or yours:
But for that pack of churlish boors,
Not fit to live on chriftian ground,
They and their houses fhall be drown'd;
Whilft you fhall fee your cottage rise,
And grow a church before your eyes.

D 3


They scarce had fpoke; when fair and


The roof began to mount aloft;
Aloft rofe ev'ry beam and rafter;
The heavy wall climb'd flowly after.
The chimney widen'd, and grew higher,
Fecame a fteeple with a fpire.

The kettle to the top was hoist,
And there ftood fasten'd to a joist,
But with the upfide down, to fhow
Its inclination for below:

In vain; for a fuperior force
Apply'd at bottom ftops its course:
Doom'd ever in fufpence to dwell,
'Tis now no kettle, but a bell..

A wooden jack, which had almoft
Loft by disuse the art to roaft,
A fudden alteration feels,

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Increas'd by new inteftine wheels
And, what exalts the wonder more,
The number made the motion flow'r.
The flyer, though't had leaden feet,
Turn'd round fo quick, you fcarce could

But, flacken'd by fome fecret pow'r,
Now hardly moves an inch an hour.
The jack and chimney, near ally'd,
Had never left each other's fide:

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