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Now to apply, begin we then ;
And here my fimile almost tript,
A D E.
HERE the Red Lion staring o'er the way, Invites each paffing stranger that can pay; Where Calvert's butt, and Parson's black champaign, Regale the drabs and bloods of Drury-lane ; There in a lonely room, from bailiffs snug, The Muse found Scroggen ftretch'd beneath a rug; A window patch'd with paper, lent a ray, That dimly thew'd the state in which he lay; The fanded floor that grits beneath the tread; The humid wall with paltry pi&tures spread: The Royal game of goose was there in view, And the twelve rules the royal martyr
drew; The seasons, fram'd with lifting, found a place, And brave prince William Thew'd his lamp-black face:
The morn was cold, he views with keen desire
Τ Η Ε