Once Pope under Jevais resolvd to… & from a Good Poet Pope turnd… So from a Good Painter Charles J… May turn an ill Poet by living wi… Then Each may perform the true pa…

As Celia with her Sparrow playd She took a glass unseen Her mouth she filld & while he billd She spirts ye liquor in

How justly art when Cælia aids s… Contends her ms nature to excell The slender needles in that hand c… Such forms as hers but of a better… The silk is placd the winding trac…

How nicely fair Phillis you manag… You neither reproach nor approve h… Just keep him in play wth ye hopes… Not give him enough that you’le lo… Tis tyrrany ruling in love wth suc…

Gay Bacchus liking Estcourt’s Wi… A noble Meal bespoke; And for the Guests that were to D… Brought Comus, Love, and Joke. The God near Cupid drew his Chai…

Mother of plenty, daughter of the… Sweet Peace, the troubl’d world’s… Around thy poet weave thy summer s… Within my fancy spread thy flow’ry… Amongst thy train soft ease and pl…

& tis too true alass! we find,… Virtue from earth a second time is… She onely then with her two sister… But now since he, what ere were go… Uncertain where to fix, in him the…

With kind compassion hear my cry O Jesu, Lord of life, on high! As when the Summer’s seasons beat With scorching flame and parching… The trees are burnt, the flowers f…

What ancient times (those times we… Have left on long record of woman’… What morals teach it, and what fab… What author wrote it, how that aut… All these I sing. In Greece they…

To the kind powr who taught me how… Thus with the first of all wch he… Did ancient piety approach the Go… Defended long by prejudice & p… Ive fancyd love a cant its god def…

Ye Wives who scold fishes sell, Or sing sell your fruit, I want a wondrous thing to tell, Then (if you can) be mute. From some of You one Homer came,

Gay Bacchus liking B—s wine A noble meal bespoke & for ye guests that were to d… Brought Comus Love & Joke The God near Cupid drew his chair

Phillis I long yr powr have ownd & you still gently swayd Now nature has yr charms dethrond & time your chain decayd Both are wth such perversness curs…

One authour has anothers head begu… Lett no man say it might be better… For since they both are Witts Ime… To find he has not drawn him twice…

To grace those lines wch next appe… The Pencil shone with more abated… Yet still ye pencil shone, ye line… & awfull Moses stands recorded… Lett his repleat with flames &…