On the University Carrier, who fickn'd in the time of his vacancy, being forbid to go to London, by reason of the Plague. HER ERE lies old Hobson, Death hath broke his girt, And here, alas! hath laid him in the dirt, Or else the ways being foul, twenty to one, "He's here ftuck in a flough, and overthrown. 'Twas such a shifter, that if truth were known, Death was half glad when he had got him down ; For he had any time this ten years full, Dodg'd with him, betwixt Cambridge and the Bull. Shew'd him his room where he muft lodge that night, H Another on the fame. ERE teth one, who did most truly prove So hung his destiny, never to rot While he might ftill jogg on and keep his trot, Made of fphear-metal, never to decay Until his revolution was at ftay. Time numbers motion, yet (without a crime Reft, that gives all men life, gave him his death, Too long vacation hasten'd on his term, But vow, though the cross Doctors all ftood hearers, Yet (ftrange to think) his wain was his increase: |