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In peaked hoods and mantles tarnishid,
Sour visages, enough to scare ye,
High Dames of Honour once, that garnish'd The drawing-room of fierce Queen Mary !
The Peeress comes : The Audience stare,
And doff their hats with due submission;
She courtsies, as she takes his chair,
To all the People of condition,
The Bard with many an artful fib,
Had in imagination fenc'd him,
Disprov'd the arguments of * Squib,
* Groom of the Chambers.
$ The Steward.
But soon his rhetorick forsook him,
When he the folemn hall had seen ;
A sudden fit of ague shook him,
He stood as mute as poor || Macteane.
Yet something he was heard to mutter, “ How in the park beneath an old-tree
“(Without design to hurt the butter, " Or any malice to the poultry)
“ He once or twice had penn'd a sonnet ; " Yet hopd, that he might save his bacon :
“ Numbers would give their oaths upon it, “ He neler was for a conj'rer taken.”
| A famous highwayman hang'd the week before.
The ghostly Prudes, with hagged face,
My Lady rose, and with a grace
“Jesu-Maria ! Madam Bridget,
Why, what can the Viscountess mean
(Cry'd the square hoods in woeful fidget) “ The times are alter'd quite and clean !
Decorum's turn'd to mere civility ;
“ Her air and all her manners shew it.
“ Condemn'd me to her affability!
Speak to a Commoner and Poet !”
[Here 500 Stanzas are loft.]
And so, God save our noble King,
And guard us from long-winded Lubbers,
That to eternity would fing,
Η Υ Μ Ν