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All here know I've a Truſty Subject been,
I always lov'd our Joan, and ſerv'd my Queen.
Such Labours with Succeſs I'm ſure you'll crown,
To ſhame the keeping Cullies of die Town;
While thro' the Court your practic'd Virtues ſhine,
You make this Circle, as it looks, Divine :
Then may our Daughters ſafely take the Field,
Where Victims conquer, and where Conq'rors yield;
When you the foremoſt ſtand in Goodneſs, as in Pow'r,
And like a Guardian-Angel, watch your Hour :
Then Virtue will in Courts, Honour in Camps ſucceed,
And all the World from ſlaviſh Vice be freed :
Then ev'ry Year our hopeful Youths will come
Laden with Spoils, and Gallick Trophies home ;
Each gen'rous Hero ſtriving who ſhall pay
The greateſt Offerings to this Happy Day.

With this great Theme the Country Bard infpir'd,
And with ſuch wond'rous ſparkling Beauty flr'd;
His eager Soul makes this high daring Flight,
'Till, like an Eagle, he ſoars out of Sight:
But humbly begs he may deſcend again,
For this High-flying turns his giddy Brain.
Courts are ſuch Crowds, he never knew before,
Tho' now he ventur'd thro' the Guarded Door,
You're free to hang him, if he comes once more.
But humbly yet, e'er he prefumes to go,
He begs for leave to fend his Plenipo------,
The Obſervator, Mr.----- you know who.

As for the Kit-Cat Jacob, and the reſt,
They're but a fort of'Quiblers at the beſt;
For were their Merits meaſur'd by their Brains,
They'd have a Cat of' Nine Tails for their Pains :
If he cou'd well tell how, he wou'd beſtow it,
For it's hard no Body ſhou'd pay the Poet;
And give the Dabler, for his Rhiming Stuff,
No Crown of Laurel, but an Oaken Ruff;
For Merit when it's paſs'd in Silence by,
Baulks the poor Coxcomb of his Vanity.

London Printed : And Sold by B. Bragg in
Avemary Lane. 1705. Price I d.