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A BALLAD ON QUADRILLE *.
WRITTEN BY MR. CONGREVE.
WHEN, as Corruption hence did go,
When Ay said Ay, and No said No,
Then Satan, thinking things went ill,
Kings, queens, and knaves made up his pack,
Sure cards he has for ev'ry thing,
Which well court-cards they name: And, statesmen like, calls in the king, To help out a bad game:
But, if the parties manage ill,
The king is forc'd to lose Codille, &c.
* On the subject of this ballad, see a letter from Dr.Arbuthnot
to Dean Swift, dated Nov. 8, 1726. N.
When two and two were met of old,
But now, meet when and where you will,
The commoner, and knight, the peer,
Men of all ranks and fame, Leave to their wives the only care,
To propagate their name; And well that duty they fulfil,
When the good husband's at Quadrille, &c.
When patients lie in piteous case,
In comes th' apothecary; And to the doctor cries, alas! Non debes quadrillare.
The patient dies without a pill,
For why? the doctor's at Quadrille, &c.
Sould France and Spain again grow loud,
The king of late drew forth his sword
What are their feats of arms and skill? They're but nine parties at Quadrille, &c.
A party late at Cambray met,
Which drew all Europe's eyes;
But somebody took something ill,
And now, God save this noble realm,
Quadrille, Quadrille, &c.
or, the FAIR MAID OF THE INN *,
SAYS my uncle, I pray you discover
What hath been the cause of your woes, Why you pine and you whine like a lover: I've seen Molly Mog of the Rose.
*The Rose inn, at Ockingham in Berkshire. H.
O nephew your grief is but folly;
Will-o'-wisp leads the traveller a gadding
For guineas in other men's breeches
The heart, when half wounded, is changing,
Who follows all ladies of pleasure,
A letter when I am inditing,
Comes Cupid, and gives me a jog; And I fill all the paper with writing
Of nothing but sweet Molly Mog.
If I would not give up the three Graces,
Those faces want nature and spirit,
Those who toast all the family royal
Were Virgil alive with his Phillis,
He'd give up for sweet Molly Mog.
When she smiles on each guest, like her liquor,
To be sure she's a bit for the vicar