Imatges de pÓgina
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And, was not Tom this Morning sent ? “ I'd lay my Life he never went. “ Paft Six, and not a living Soul! “ I might, by this, have won a Vole." A dreadful Interval of Spleen! How shall we pass the Time between ? “ Here, Betty, let me take my Drops, " And feel my Pulse, I know it stops : - This Head of mine, Lord, how it swims? " And such a Pain in all


Limbs.” Dear Madam, try to take a NapBut now they hear a Footman's Rap! “ Go run, and light the Ladies up: " It must be One before we sup.”

The Table, Cards, and Counters set,
And all the Gamefter Ladies met,
Her Spleen and Fits recover'd quite,
Our Madam can sit up all Night,
“ Whoever comes, I'm not within-
Quadrill the Word, and so begin.

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How can the Muse her Aid impart,
Unskill'd in all the Terms of Art ?
Or, in harmonious Numbers put
The Deal, the Shuffle, and the Cut?
The superstitious Whims relate,
That fill a Female Gamester's Pate?
What Agony of Soul she feels
To see a Knave's inverted Heels :
She draws up Card by Card to find
Good Fortune peeping from behind ;


you please.

With panting Heart, and earnest Eyes,
In hope to see Spadillo rise:
In vain, alas ! her Hope is fed ;
She draws an *Ace, and fees it red.
In ready Counters never pays,
But pawns her Snuff-Box, Rings and Keys,
Ever with some new Fancy struck,
Tries twenty Charms to mend her Luck.
“ This Morning when the Parfon came,
“ I said, I should not win a Game,
" This odious Chair, how came I stuck in't ?
I think, I never had good Luck in't,
" I'm so uneasy in my Stays;
" Your Fan a Moment, if
“ Stand further, Girl, or get you gone,
" I always lose when you look on.
Lord, Madam, you have loft Codill ;
I never saw you play fo ill.
“ Nay, Madam, give me leave to say,
'Twas you that threw the Game away;
" When Lady Trickly play'd a Four,
- You took it with a Mattadore;
" I saw you touch your Wedding Ring,
“ Before my Lady call'd a King.
You spoke a Word began with H;
" And I know whom you mean to teach,
6. Because you held the King of Hearts :

Fie, Madam, leave these litcle Arts.
That's not so bad as one that rubs
Her Chair to call the King of Clubs,


And makes her Partner understand
A Mattadore is in her Hand.
“ Madam, you have no Cause to flounce,
“ I swear, I saw you thrice renounce.
And truly, Madan, I know when
Instead of five you scor'd me Ten.
Spadillo here has got a Mark,
A Child may know it in the Dark :
I guess the Hand, it seldom fails,
I wish some Folks would pair their Nails.

While thus they rail, and scold, and storm,
It passes but for common Form ;
And conscious that they all speak true,
They give each other but their Due ;
It never interrupts the Game,
Or makes 'em sensible of Shame.

The Time too precious now to waste,
And Supper gobbled up in haste :
Again a-fresh to Cards they run,
As if they had but just begun :
But, I shall not again repeat
How oft they squabble, snarl and cheat,
At last they hear the Watchman knock,
A frosty Morn-past Four o'Clock.
The Chairmen are not to be found,
5 Come, let us play the other Round.

Now, all in haste they huddle on
Their Hoods, and Cloaks, and get them gone :


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But, first, the Winner must invite
The Company Tomorrow Night.

UNLUCKY Madam, left in Tears,
(Who now again Quadrill forswears,)
With empty Purse, and aching Head,
Steals to her sleeping Spouse to Bed.


The Grand Question debated:


HAMILTON'S * BAWN should be turned into

a Barrack or a Malt-house.

The Preface to the English Edition.


HE Author of the following Poem is said to be Dr.
J. S. D. S. P. D. who writ it, as well as seve-

ral other Copies of Verses of the like Kind, by Way of Amusement, in the Family of an honourable Gentleman in the North of Ireland, where be spent a Summer about two or three years ago.

A certain very great + Person, then in that Kingdom, baving heard much of this poem, obtained a Copy from the Gentleman, or, as some say, the Lady, in wbose House it was wrilten, from whence, I know not by what Accident, several other Copies were transcribed, full of Errors. As I have a great Respect for the supposed Autbor, I have procured a true Copy of the Poem, the Publication whereof can do bim less Injury than printing any of those incorrect ones which run about in Manuscript, and would infallibly be soon in the Press, if not thus prevented.

Some Expressions being peculiar to Ireland, I bave prevailed on a Gentleman of that Kingdom to explain ibem, and I bave put the several Explanations in their

proper Places.

* A Bawn was a Place near the House, enclosed with Mud or Stone Walls, to keep the Cattle from being stolen in the Night. They are now little used. i Lord CARTERET, then Lord Lieutenant.


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