Imatges de pÓgina
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His spirits of a sudden fail'd him,
He stop'd,and could not tell what ail'd him.

What was the message I receiv'd ?
Why certainly the captain rav'd :
To dine with her! and come at three !
Impossible ! it can't be me.
Or may be I mistook the word ;
My lady !- it must be my lord !

My lord's abroad; my lady too:
What must th' unhappy doctor do?
Is * captain Crach’rode here pray?--10.
Nay then’tis time for me to go.
Am I awake, or do I dream?
I'm sure he call’d me by my name ;
Nam'd me as plain as he could speak,
And yet there must be some mistake.
Why, what a jest shou'd I have been
Had now my lady been within ?
What could I've said ? I'm mighty glad
She went abroad--she'd thought me mad.
The hour of dining now is past;
Well then I'll e’en go home and fast;
And, since I 'scap'd being made a scoff,
I think I'm very fairly off.

* The gentleman who brought the message.


My lady now returning home
Calls, Crach’rode, is the do&tor come ?
He had not heard of him-pray see,
'Tis now a quarter after three.
The captain walks about, and searches
Through all the rooms, and courts, and

Examines all the servants round,
In vain-no do&or's to be found,
My lady could not chuse but wonder:
Captain, I fear you've made fome blunder:

But, pray, to-morrow go at ten,
I'll try his manners once again ;
If rudeness be theffeet of knowledge,
My son shall never

see a college.

The captain was a man of reading, And much good sense as well as breeding, Who, loth to blame, or to incense, Said little in his own defence : Next day another meliage brought; The, doctor frighten’d at his fault, Is dress’d, and stealing through the crowd, Now pale as death, then blush and bow'd, Panting, and faultring, humm’d and ha’d. Her ladyship was gone abroad;


The captain too-she did not know
Whether he ought to stay or go.
Beg'd she'd forgive him. In conclusion
My lady, pitying his confusion,
Callid her good nature to relieve him;
Told him she thought she might believe


And would not only grant his suit, But visit him and eat some fruit; Provided, at a proper time, He told the real truth in rhyme. 'Twas to no purpose to oppose, She'd hear of no excuse in prose. The doctor ftood not to debate, Glad to compound at any rate; So bowing, seemingly comply'd; Though if he durft he had deny’d. But first resolv'd to shew his taste Was too refin'd to give a feaft: He'd treat with nothing that was rare, But winding walks and purer air; 'Would entertain without expence, Or pride, or vain magnificence; For well he knew to such a guest The plainest meals must be the best. To stomachs clog'd with costly fare Simplicity alone is rare; VOL. VII. U


Whilft high, and nice, and curious meats,
Are really but vulgar treats :
Instead of spoils of Persian looms,
The costly boasts of regal rooms,
Thought it more courtly and discreet,
To scatter roses at her feet;
Roses of richest dye, that shone
With native lustre, like her own;
Beauty, that needs no aid of art
Through every sense to reach the heart.
The gracious dame, though well she knew
All this was much beneath her due,
Lik'd every thing—at least thought fit
To praise it par maniere d'acquit.
Yet she, though seeming pleas'd, can't bear
The scorching sun, or chilling air,
Disturb'd alike at both extremes,
Whether he shews or hides his beams :
Though seeming pleas'd at all she fees
Starts at the ruffling of the trees;
And scarce can speak, for want of breath,
In half a walk fatigu'd to death.
The doctor takes his hint from hence,
T'apologize his late offence:
“ Madam, the mighty pow'r of use
“ Now ftrangely pleads in my excuse.

“ If you, unus’d, have scarcely strength “ To gain this walk's untoward length ; “ If, frighten'd at à scene so rude,

Through long disuse of solitude; “ If, long confin'd to fires and screens, “ You dread the waving of these greens;

Ifyou, wlto long have breath'd the fumes “ Of city fogs and crowded rooms, “ Do now folicitously shun “ The cooler air, and dazzling sun; “ If his majestic eye you flee, “ Learn hence t’excuse and pity me. 6 Consider what it is to bear “ The powder'd courtier’s witty sneer; “ To see th’important man of dress

Scoffing my college aukwardness, “ To be the strutting cornet's sport; “ To run the gauntlet of the court, “ Winning my way by slow approaches, “ Through crouds of coxcombs and of

“ coaches, “ From the first fierce cockaded centry, “ Quite through the tribe of waiting

gentry; “ To pass so many crowded stages, “ And ftand the staring of your pages;



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