LET me thy properties explain: A rotten cabin dropping rain: Chimneys, with scorn rejecting smo… Stools, tables, chairs, and bedste… Here elements have lost their uses…

THUS spoke to my lady the knight… “Let me have your advice in a weig… This Hamilton’s bawn[2], while it… I lose by the house what I get by… But how to dispose of it to the be…

As, when a lofty pile is raised, We never hear the workmen praised, Who bring the lime, or place the s… But all admire Inigo Jones: So, if this pile of scattered rhym…

Don Carlos, in a merry spight, Did Stella to his house invite: He entertain’d her half a year With generous wines and costly che… Don Carlos made her chief directo…

Never sleeping, still awake, Pleasing most when most I speak; The delight of old and young, Though I speak without a tongue. Nought but one thing can confound…

The Dean would visit Market-hill; Our invitation was but slight; I said—why—Let him if he will, And so I bid Sir Arthur write. His manners would not let him wait…

As when a beauteous nymph decays, We say she’s past her dancing days… So poets lose their feet by time, And can no longer dance in rhyme. Your annual bard had rather chose

From London to Exon, By special direction, Came down the world’s wonder, Sir Salathiel Blunder, With a quoif on his head

To their Excellencies the Lords… The humble petition of Frances Ha… Who must starve and die a maid if… Humble sheweth, that I went to wa… was cold;

I’m wealthy and poor, I’m empty and full, I’m humble and proud, I’m witty and dull. I’m foul and yet fair:

All folks who pretend to religion… Allow there’s a HELL, but disput… But, if HELL may by logical rule… The place of the damned –I’ll tel… Wherever the damned do chiefly abo…

From a town that consists of a chu… With three or four houses, and as… There went an Address in great fo… Composed, as ’tis said, by Will C… And thus it began to an excellent…

The Farmer’s Goose, who in the S… Has fed without Restraint, or Tro… Grown fat with Corn and Sitting s… Can scarce get o’er the Barn-Door… And hardly waddles forth, to cool

TO THE LORD TREASURER… 1710 Atlas, we read in ancient song, Was so exceeding tall and strong, He bore the skies upon his back,

Corinna, Pride of Drury-Lane, For whom no Shepherd sighs in vai… Never did Covent Garden boast So bright a batter’d, strolling T… No drunken Rake to pick her up,