The presbyter laid by the book,

And earnestly he prayed
That the great sin the cat had done

Might not on him be laid.
And straight to execution

Poor pussy she was drawn,
And high hanged up upon a tree-

The preacher sung a psalm.

And, when the work was ended,

They thought the cat near dead ;
She gave a paw, and then a mew,

And stretched out her head.
“Thy name,” said he, “ shall certainly

A beacon still remain,
A terror unto evil ones

For evermore, Amen."

TITUS OATES IN THE PILLORY. Behold the hero, who has done all this, In a small “triumph” stand, such as it is. A kind of an “ovation” only ?-True. But those for bloodless victories are due ; His were not such. He merits more than “eggs": Let him in “ triumph" swing, and ease his legs.

Cosmelia's charms inspire my lays ;

Who, young in nature's scorn,
Blooms in the winter of her days

Like Glastonbury thorn.

Cosmelia, cruel at three score

(Like bards in modern plays),
Four acts of life passed guiltless o'er,

But in the fifth she slays.

If e'er, impatient for the bliss,

Within her arms you fall,
The plastered fair returns the kiss,

Like Thisbe, through a wall.


Oh what a pain is love!

How shall I bear it?
She will unconstant prove,

I greatly fear it.
She so torments my mind

That my strength faileth,
And wavers with the wind,

As a ship that saileth. Please her the best I may, She looks another way; Alack and well-a-day!

Phillida flouts me!

All the fair yesterday

She did pass by 'me; She looked another way,

And would not spy me. I wooed her for to dine,

But could not get her: Will had her to the wine;

He might entreat her. With Daniel she did dance ; On me she looked askance! Oh thrice unhappy chance !

Phillida floats me!

Fair maid! be not so coy,

Do not disdain me;
I am my mother's joy,—

Sweet! entertain me!
She'll give me, when she dies,

All that is fitting ;
Her poultry and her bees,

And her geese sitting ;
A pair of mattress-beds,
And a bagful of shreds ;
And yet, for all this goods,

Phillida flouts me!

She hath a clout of mine,

Wrought with good Coventry,
Which she keeps for a sign

Of my fidelity.
But i'faith, if she flinch,

She shall not wear it ;
To Tib, my t’other wench,

I mean to bear it.

And yet it grieves my heart
So soon from her to part !
Death strikes me with his dart!

Phillida flouts me!

Thou shalt eat curds and cream,

All the year lasting ;
And drink the crystal stream,

Pleasant in tasting :
Wigge and whey, while thou burst,

And bramble-berry, Pie-lid and pastry-crust,

Pears, plums, and cherry; Thy raiment shall be thin, Made of a weaven skin ;Yet all not worth a pin!

Phillida flouts me!

Fair maidens, have a care,

And in time take me ;
I can have those as fair,

If you forsake me.
For Doll the dairy-maid

Laughed on me lately,
And wanton Winifred

Favours me greatly.
One throws milk on my clothes,
T'other plays with my nose:
What wanton signs are those !

Phillida flouts me!

I cannot work and sleep

All at a season;
Love wounds my heart so deep,

Without all reason.
I'gin to pine away

With grief and sorrow,
Like to a fatted beast

Penned in a meadow,
I shall be dead, I fear,
Within this thousand year,
And all for very fear

Phillida flouts me! ONE DENIAL.

WHAT! put off with one denial,
And not make a second trial ?
You might see my eyes consenting,
All about me was relenting ;
Women, obliged to dwell in forms,
Forgive the youth that boldly storms.
Lovers, when you sigh and languish,
When you tell us of your anguish,
To the nymph you'll be more pleasing
When those sorrows you are easing:
We love to try how far men dare,
And never wish the foe should spare.

AN ECHO SONG, “IF I address the Echo yonder What will its answer be, I wonder ?”

“I wonder !”

“Oh wondrous Echo! Tell me, bless 'ee, Am I for marriage or celibacy?”

“Silly Bessy!”

“If then to win the maid I try, Shall I find her a property?”

“A proper tie!" "If neither being grave nor funny Will win this maid to matrimony?”

“Try money!”

“If I should try to gain her heart, Shall I go plain, or rather smart?”


“She mayn't love dress, and I again, then, May come too smart, and she'll complain then.”

Come plain then.” “ Then if to marry me I teaze her, What will she say if that should please her?

Please, sir !" " When cross nor good words can appease her, What if such naughty whims should seize her?”

“You'd see, sir!”

“When wed, she'll change, for Love's no sticker, And love her husband less than liquor !"

“Then lick her!” “ To leave me then I can't compel her, Though every woman else excel her!”

“Sell her!


CHLOE brisk and gay appears,

On purpose to invite;
Yet, when I press her, she, in tears,

Denies her sole delight:

Whilst Coelia, seeming shy and coy,

To all her favours grants,
And secretly receives that joy

Which others think she wants.

I would, but fear I never shall,

With either fair agree ;
For Colia will be kind to all,

But Chloe won't to me.


It fell upon a Martinmas time,

And a gay time it was then,
When our goodwife got puddings to make,

And she boiled them in a pan.

The wind sae cauld blew south and north,

And blew into the floor ;
Quoth our goodman to our goodwife,

“Get up and bar the door.'

"My hand is in my hussy's skap,

Goodman, as you may see;.
An' it should na be barred this hundred year,

It's no be barred, for me."

They made a paction 'tween them twa,

They made it firm and sure,
That the first word whae'er should speak

Should rise and bar the door,

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