Then fhaking him Wake fwineherd Allen cries,
I've joyful newsWhat? grumbling sim replies.
I am the luckieft Rogue-by this no light,
I have had full employment all the night.
The daughter kindly paid her father's score,
All night I have embrac'd her the whore !
O thou falfe traytor, clark! thou haft defil'd
Our honeft family, deflower'd our child!
Thy life fhall answer it;with that he caught
At Allen's throat; young Allen ftoutly fought.
Both give and take, returning blows with blows;
But Allen ftroke the miller on the nose
With all his force; out flies the ftreaming gore,
And down it runs.
Then up they get,
They tumble on the floor:
lab'ring with equal ftrife:
Sim stumbled backward quite a-crofs his wife.
She faft a-fleep, none of this scuffle heard.
Wak'd by his fall, and heartily afraid;
Help holy cross of Broholme! (O I faint)
Help my good angel! help my patron faint!
The Fiend lies on me like a load of lead!
Remove this devil, this night-mare, or I'm dead!
Then up starts John, and turns 'em from the wife,
Hunts for a cudgel to conclude the strife.
-Up gets the miller, Allen grafps him clofe,
Both play at hard-head, ftrugling to get loofe.
Out fteps the wife, well knowing where there ftood
In a by-corner, a tough piece of wood;,
On this she feiz'd, and by a glimm'ring light
Which enter'd at a chink faw fomething white.
But, by a foul mistake, 'twas her ill hap
To take his bald pate for the scholars cap.
She lifts the staff, it fell on his bare crown,
Strong was the blow, fhe knock'd her husband down.
OI am flain, the miller loudly cry'd.
Live to be hang'd, thou thief, Allen reply'd.
Away they go, first take their meal and cake,..
Then lay the grift upon their horfe's back.
To Scholar's-hall they march, for now 'twas light,
Pleas'd with the ftrange adventures of the night.
The wife the scholars curfes, binds his head,
Then lift him up, and lays him on the bed.
O wife, fays Sim, our daughter is defil'd,
That villain Allen has debauch'd our child.
Miftaken me for John, he told me all;
Ten thousand furies plague that Scholar's-hall!
O falfe abufive knave! (the wife reply'd)
In ev'ry word the villain spake he ly'd.
I wak'd, and heard our harmless child complain,
And rofe, to know the cause, and ease her pain.
I found her torn with gripes, a dram I brought,
And made her take a comfortable draught.
Then lay down by her, chaff'd her fwelling breaft,
-And lull'd her in these very arms to reft.
All was contrivance, malice all and spight,
I have not parted from her all this night.
Then is fhe innocent? Ay by my life,
As pure and spotlefs-as thy bofom wife.
I'm fatisfy'd, fays Sim. O that damn'd Hall!
I'll do the best I can to ftarve 'em all.
And thus the miller of his fear is eas'd,
The mother and the daughter both well pleas'd.
HLOE a coquet in her prife, The vainest fickleft thing alive; Behold the ftrange effects of time! Marries and doats at forty five.
Thus weather-cocks, who for a while Have turn'd about with every blaft, Grown old and deftitute of oil,
Ruft to a point, and fix at last.
EPITAPH on the MONUMENT of the Marquis of Winchester.
E who in impious times undaunted stood,
And midft rebellion durft be juft and good;
Whofe arms afferted, and whofe fuff'rings more
Confirm'd the caufe for which he fought before,
Refts here rewarded by an heavenly prince,
For what his earthly could not recompense.
Pray (reader) that fuch times no more appear,
Or if they happen, learn true honour here.
Ark of thy ages faith and loyalty,
Which (to preserve them) heaven confin'd in thee.
Few fubjects could a king like thine deserve,
And fewer fuch a king fo well cou'd ferve.
Bleft king, bleft fubject, whofe exalted state
By fufferings rofe, and gave the law to fate.
Such fouls are rare; but mighty patterns giv'n
To earth, were meant for ornaments to heav'n.
EPITAPH
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