None of these have mercy found, Have you feen a rocket fly? To decide of wrong and right; Talk with fense whate'er you please on; Learn to relish truth and reason. Thus we both should gain our prize : I to laugh, and you grow wife. THE DISCOVER Y. WHEN W HEN wife lord ‡ Berkeley first came here, Statesmen and mob expected wonders, Nor thought to find fo great a peer, Ere a week paft committing blunders. Till, on a day cut out by fate, When folks came thick to make their court, Out flipt a mystery of state To give the town and country fport. Now enters * Bush with new ftate airs, His lordship's premier minister; And who in all profound affairs Is held as needful as his + clyfter. When the earl of Berkeley went over to Ireland as one of the lords juftices, the author, in compliance with his invitation, went over with him as chaplain and private fecretary; but Bush, another of the earl's attendants, ha ing infinuated that the place of fecretary was not proper for a clergyman, found means foon after they arrived at Dublin to obtain it for himself. * My lord's wife fecretary. + Always taken before my lord went to council. Dd2 With With head reclining on his shoulder, Afks of his neighbour, who is that ? The courtiers kept their distance due, He twitch'd his fleeve, and ftole a word; Then to a corner both withdrew. Imagine now, my lord and Bufb Whisp'ring in junto most profound, Like 'good king* Phyz, and good king Ub, While all the reft ftood gaping round. At length a spark, not too well bred, Of forward face and ear acute, Advanc'd on tiptoe, lean'd his head, To over-hear the grand difpute; To learn what northern kings defign, Or from Whitehall fome new express, Papifts difarm'd, or fall of coin: For fure (thought he) it can't be less. My lord, faid Bush, a friend and I Difguis'd in two old thread-bare coats, Ere morning's dawn ftole out to spy How markets went for hay and oats: * Vide the Rehearsal. With that he draws two handfuls out, The one was oats, the other hay; Puts this to's excellency's fnout, And begs he would the other weigh. My lord feems pleas'd, but ftill directs By all means to bring down the rates; Then, with a congee circumflex, Bufb, fmiling round on all, retreats. Our lift'ner ftood a while confus'd, But gathering fpirits wifely ran for't, Enrag'd to see the world abus'd By two fuch whisp'ring kings of Brentford. The PROBLEM. That my lord Bley finks, when he's D1 in love. ID ever problem thus perplex, Or more employ the female fex ? So fweet a paffion, who would think, Jove ever form'd to make a flink ? The ladies vow and fwear they'll try, Whether it be a truth or lye. Dd 3 Love's Love's fire, it seems, like inward heat, Whether all paffions, when in ferment, gut, Now to a nobler office put, But ftill, tho fix'd among the stars Thus when you feel an hard-bound breech, And |