ia_ always, forc'd from _Delia_'s Sight,
Nor Fields, nor Hills, nor Plains, nor Groves delight.

_At the same Place, 1731._

Love in Fashion, is Copulation.

_Le H----p._

_At the same Place._

The Brave and Wise would never hug
The chearful Bottle and the Jug,
Were not good Liquor in its Season,
An useful Spur to human Reason.

_Probatum est_, W. T.

_At Rumford, in a Window._

There's Nothing sure can vex a Woman more
Than to hear the Feats of Love, and be Threescore.

_Written on a Looking-Glass, in the Rue Boucharie, Paris._

Le Mond est plein de fous, & qui n'en veut point voir,
Doit demeurer tout seul, & casser son meroir.

The World is full of Fools and Asses,
To see them not---- retire and break your Glasses.

_Oxon, in a Bog-House._

With such violent Rage,
Sir _John_ did engage
With the Damsel which he laid his Leg on,
That his Squire, who stood near,
Swore it look'd like the Spear
Of St. _George_ in the Mouth of the Dragon.

_On a Drinking-Glass._

Guard well your Credit, for 'tis quickly gone:
'Tis gain'd by many Actions, lost by one.

_At York, in a Window._

When Mr. _H----_ was chosen Mayor, }
We thought our Peace stood very fair, }
And hollow'd when he took the Chair. }
But see how Mortals may prove civil, }
They change their State from Good to Evil: }
Set a Beggar on Horseback, he'll ride to the Devil. }
And so it prov'd.

_From a Window in Yorkshire._

Sir ---- was chosen our Recorder,
Hoping he'd put our Wrongs in Order:
But, in Truth, the young Gentleman prov'd such a Rake,
That he kiss'd all our Wives, and made all our Heads ake.

_Uxbridge, the Crown._

_Puns_ have two evil Ends:
Sometimes they gain us Foes,
Sometimes they make us lose
our Friends.

_At Epping, in a Window._

What care I, to acknowledge my Lord was my Father? }
To inherit his Fortune and Weakness together; }
If a Porter had got me with Health, I'd much rather. }

_Rebus on Miss Jane Mar-tin._

To _spoil_ the _Cornish Ore_,
Names the Nymph that I adore.

_Rebus on Miss Bell-a-dine._

What in a Steeple bears a Sound?
What in the Horn-Book first is found;
And eat the Meal of glorious Noon;
Give me, Great _Jove_, this Lady soon,
Whose Name the first three Lines explain:
Her Love's my Life,