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The Porringers, that in a row
The Ballads pasted on the Wall,
A Bedstead of an Antique Mode,
The Cottage by such Feates as these, Grown to a Church by juft Degrees, The Hermits then defir'd their Hoft To ask for what he fancy'd most: Philemon, having paus'd a while, Return'd'em Thanks in homely Stile; Then said, my House is grown so fine, Methinks, I fill would call it mine : I'm Old, and 'feign wonld live at Ease, Make me the Parfon, if you please.
He spoke, and presently he feels His Grazier's Coat fall down his Heels ; He sees, yet hardly can believe, About each Arm a Pudding-sleeve; His Waftcoat to a Caffock grew, And both affum'd a Sable Hue; But being old, continu'd just As Thread-bare, and as full of Duft.
His talk was now of Tytbes and Dues,
Thus having furbish'd up a Parson,
liroli And hardly could believe his Eyes, idini Amaz'd to see her look so Prim, And she admir'd as muchiat bimiris
Thus, happy in their Change of. Life: Were several Years this Man and Wifex? In: When on a Day, which prov'd their latt, Discourfing on old Stories paft, They went by chance, amiilit their Talk; ! To the Church-yard, to take a walk; ina When Baucis haftily cry'd out, 11:15: 1:1,536 My dear, I see your Forehead Sprout :1-22 13" Sprout, quoth the Man, Whao's this you tell us : I hope, you don't believe me Jealous's so But yet, methinks, I feell 'tis true ;', ... "A! And re'lly, yours is Budding tools
Nay,now I cannot ftir my Foot :
DESCRIPTION would but tire my Muse,
Mrs. Biddy Floyd.
THEN Cupid did his Grandfire Foue intreat,
To form fame Beauty by a new Receipt, Fove sent and found far in a Country Scene, Truth, Innocence, Good Nature, Look ferene; From which Ingredients, first the dext'rous Boy Pick'd the Demure, the Aukward, and the Coy'; The Graces from the Court did next provide Breeding, and Wit, and Air, and decent Pride; These Venus cleans'd from ev'ry spurious Grain Of Nice, Coquet, Affected, Pert, and Vain. Fove mix'd up all, and his best.Clay imploy'd; Then call'd the happy Compofition, Floyd.
1 ----'S HOUSE.
HEN Mother Clud had rose froin Play,
And call'd to take the Cards away;
How Mifs pick'd ev'ry painted Card j
But when he found the Boys at Play,