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O Harlow! how I envy'd thee

Thy unabash'd Effrontery,

Who dar'ft a Foe with Freedom blame,
And call a Coxcomb by his Name!
When I return'd him Answer none,
Obligingly the Fool ran on---
“I see you're dismally distress'd,
"Would give the World to be releas'd,
"But, by your Leave, Sir! I fhall still
"Stick to your Skirts, do what you will---

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Pray which Way does your Journey tend ?" O! 'tis a tedious Way, my Friend--

Acrofs the Thames, the Lord knows where, 'I would not trouble you fo far.'

"Well, I'm at Leisure to attend you"

Are you? (thought I) the De'l befriend you !---
No Afs with double Panniers rack'd,
Opprefs'd, o'erladen, broken-back'd,
E'er look'd a thousandth Part fo dull
As I, nor half so like a Fool.
"Sir, I know little of myself,
(Proceeds the pert conceited Elf)
"If Gray or Mafon you will deem
"Than I, more worthy your Efteem."
"Poems I write by Folios,

"As faft as other Men write Profe.
"Then I can fing fo loud, fo clear!
"That Beard cannot with Me compare;

"In Dancing too I all surpass,

"Not Cooke can move with fuch a Grace"

Here I made shift, with much ado,

To interpofe a Word or two

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Have you no Parents, Sir? No Friends, • Whose Welfare on your own depends? "Parents, Relations fay you?-No

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They're all difpos'd of long ago". Happy! to be no more perplex'd! My Fate too threatens; I go next. Dispatch me, Sir! 'Tis now too late, Alas! to ftruggle with my Fate : Well! I'm convinc'd my Time is come; 'When young, a Gipfy told my Doom; The Beldam fhook her palfy'd Head, 'As fhe perus'd my Palm, and faid"Of Poifons, Peftilence, or War, "Gout, Stone, Defluxion, or Catarrh, "You have no Reason to beware. "Beware the Coxcomb's idle Prate, "Chiefly, my Son, beware of that; "Be fure, when you behold him, fly "Out of all Ear-fhot, or you die."

To Rufus' Hall we now drew near, Where he was fummon'd to appear, Refute the Charge the Plaintiff brought, Or fuffer Judgment by Default.

"For

"For Heaven's Sake, if you love me, wait
"One Moment; I'll attend you ftrait"---
Glad of a plaufible Pretence---
• Sir! I muft beg you to dispense
• With my Attendance in the Court;
My Legs will furely fuffer for't'---
"Nay, pr'ythee, Carlos, ftop awhile"--.
Faith, Sir, in Law I have no Skill;
• Befides, I have no Time to fpare,
I must be going you know where'---
"Well, I proteft, I'm doubtful now,
"Whether to leave my Suit or you"---

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Me, without Scruple,' I reply--

Me, by all means, Sir !'---" No! not I--"Allons, Monfieur !"---'Twere vain, you know, To ftrive with a victorious Foe;

So I reluctantly obey,

And follow where he leads the Way.
"You and Newcastle are fo clofe,
"Still Hand and Glove, Sir, I suppose”-
< Newcastle, let me tell you, Sir,

Has not his Equal every-where'---
"Well! there indeed your Fortune's made;
"Faith, Sir, you understand your Trade.
"Would you but give me your good Word,
juft introduce me to my Lord---

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“I should ferve charmingly, by way "Of fecond Fiddle, as they fay--

"What

"What think you, Sir?---'twere a good Jeft;
"'Slife! we should quickly scout the rest."
2 Sir, you mistake the Matter far---
• We have no fecond Fiddles there---
Richer than I, fome Folks may be ;
• More learned; but it hurts not Me;
Friends though he has of different Kind,
Each has his proper Place affign'd'---

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Strange Matters thefe alleg'd by you!" Strange they may be, but they are true.' "Well! then I vow 'tis mighty clever; "Now I long ten Times more than ever "To be advanc'd extremely near "One of his fhining Character."

Have but the Will, there wants no more; ''Tis plain enough you have the Power. His eafy Temper (that's the worst)

'He knows, and fo is shy at firft :

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But fuch a Cavalier as you!

Lord, Sir! you'll quickly bring him to’--

"Well---if I fail in my Design,

"Sir, it fhall be no Fault of mine;

"If by the faucy fervile Tribe

"Deny'd, what think you of a Bribe?
"Shut out To-day, not die with Sorrow,
"But try my Luck again To-morrow---
"Never attempt to visit him,

"But at the moft convenient Time;

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"Attend him on each Levée Day,
"And there my humble Duty pay.
"Labour, like this, our Want fupplies;
"And they must stoop, who mean to rise.”
While thus he wittily harangu'd,

(For which you'll guess I wish'd him hang'd)
Campley, a Friend of mine, came by,

Who knew his Humour more than I---
We ftop, falute :--- And, why so fast,
• Friend Carlos?---whither all this Hafte?'
Fir'd at the Thoughts of a Reprieve,
I pinch him, pull him, twitch his Sleeve,
Nod, beckon, bite my Lips, wink, pout,
Do every thing, but speak plain out---
While he, fad Dog! from the Beginning
Determin'd to mistake my Meaning,
Inftead of pitying my Curfe,

By jeering made it ten times worse---
Campley, what Secret, pray, was that,

You wanted to communicate?'---
"I recollect, but 'tis no matter;
"Carlos! we'll talk of that herea'ter---
"E'en let the Secret reft; 'twill tell
"Another Time, Sir, just as well."
Was ever fuch a dismal Day?
Unlucky Cur! he steals away,
And leaves me, half bereft of Life,
At Mercy of the Butcher's Knife---

When,

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