His fpirits of a fudden fail'd him, Heftop'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 ! Impoffible! it can't be me.

Or

may be I miftook 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?—no. Nay then 'tis time for me to go. Am I awake, or do I dream? I'm fure he call'd me by my name; Nam'd me as plain as he could fpeak, And yet there must be some mistake. Why, what a jeft fhou'd I have been Had now my lady been within? What could I've faid? I'm mighty glad She went abroad--fhe'd thought me mad. The hour of dining now is paft; Well then I'll e'en go home and fast; And, since I 'scap'd being made a fcoff, I think I'm very fairly off.

The gentleman who brought the message.

My

My lady now returning home
Calls, Crach'rode, is the doctor come?
He had not heard of him-pray fee,
'Tis now a quarter after three.

The captain walks about, and fearches Through all the rooms, and courts, and arches ;

Examines all the fervants round,

In vain no doctor's to be found,
My lady could not chufe 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 th' effect of knowledge,
My fon fhall never fee a college.

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

The

The captain too--he did not know
Whether he ought to stay or go.

Beg'd the'd forgive him. In conclufion
My lady, pitying his confufion,
Call'd her good nature to relieve him;
Told him the thought he might believe
him;

And would not only grant his fuit, But vifit him and eat fome fruit; Provided, at a proper time, He told the real truth in rhyme. 'Twas to no purpose to oppose, She'd hear of no excufe in profe. The doctor ftood not to debate, Glad to compound at any rate; So bowing, feemingly comply'd; Though if he durft he had deny’d. But firft refolv'd to fhew his tafte 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 fuch a guest The plaineft meals must be the best. To ftomachs clog'd with costly fare Simplicity alone is rare;

VOL. VII.

U

Whilft

Whilft high, and nice, and curious meats,
Are really but vulgar treats :
Instead of spoils of Perfian looms,
The coftly boasts of regal rooms,
Thought it more courtly and difcreet
To scatter roses at her feet;
Rofes of richest dye, that fhone
With native luftre, like her own;
Beauty, that needs no aid of art
Through every fense to reach the heart.
The gracious dame, though well the knew
All this was much beneath her due,
Lik'd every thing—at least thought fit
To praise it par maniere d'acquit.
Yet fhe, though feeming pleas'd, can't bear
The fcorching fun, or chilling air,
Difturb'd alike at both extremes,
Whether he fhews or hides his beams:

Though feeming pleas'd at all she sees
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 ftrength
"To gain this walk's untoward length;
If, frighten'd at a scene so rude,
Through long difufe of folitude;
If, long confin'd to fires and fcreens,
"You dread the waving of thefe greens;
If you, who long have breath'd the fumes
"Of city fogs and crowded rooms,
"Do now folicitoufly fhun

"The cooler air, and dazzling fun ;
"If his majestic eye you flee,
"Learn hence t'excuse and pity me.
"Confider what it is to bear

"The powder'd courtier's witty fneer; "To fee th'important man of dress Scoffing my college aukwardness, "To be the ftrutting cornet's sport; "To run the gauntlet of the court, Winning my way by flow approaches, Through crouds of coxcombs and of "coaches,

"From the firft fierce cockaded centry, Quite through the tribe of waiting

66 gentry;

"To pass so many crowded stages, "And ftand the flaring of your pages;

U2

And,