This re-appears in the _Antidote against Melancholy_, 1661 p. 65; and, with music, in the 1719 _Pills to p. Mel._, iii. 52 Page 55. _Idol of our Sex!_ &c. This Lady Carnarvon was the wife of Robert Dormer, second Baron Dormer, created Visc. Ascott, or Herld, and Earl of Carnarvon, 2d Aug., 1628. Obiit 1643. He fell at the Battle of Newbury, 20th Sept. (See Clarendon’s _History of the Rebellion_, Book vii. p. 350, edit. 1720, where his merits are recognized.) Her name was Anna-Sophia, daughter of Philip, Earl of Pembroke. The child mentioned in the poem was their son, Charles Dormer, who died in 1709, when the Viscounty and Earldom became extinct. The poem was written at his birth, on January 1st. Page 57. _Uds bodykins! Chill work no more._ We find this, a year earlier, (an inferior version, lacking third verse, but longer,) as _Cockbodykins, chill_, &c., in _Wit’s Interpreter_, p. 143, 1655; and p. 247, 1671. It is a valuable, because trustworthy and graphic, record of the troubles falling upon those who tried to labour on, despite the stir of civil war. 4th verse, “that a vet,” seems corruption of that is fetched; horses _in a hole_ (_W. Int._); vange thy note, is _take thy note_. (_do_). Prob. date, 1647. THE SECOND PART. _Then straight came ruffling to my dore,_ _Some dozens of these rogues, or more;_ _So zausie they be grown._ _Facks[,] if they come, down they sit,_ _They’l never ask me leave one whit,_ _They’l take all for their own._ _Then ich provision straight must make,_ _And from my Chymney needs must take,_ _And vlitch both pure and good._ [a flitch] _Oh! ’twould melt a Christians heart to see,_ _That such good Bacon spoil’d should be,_ _’Twas as red as any blood._ _But in it would, whether chud or not,_ _Together with Beans into the pot,_ _As sweet as any viggs._ _And when chave done all that I am able,_ _They’l slat it down all under table,_ _And zwear they be no Pigs._ _Then Ize did intreat their worships to be quiet,_ _And ich would strive to mend their diet,_ _And they shall have finer feeding,_ _They zwear goddam thee for a boor,_ _Wee’l gick thee raskal out a door,_ _And teach thee better breeding._ _Then on the fire they [do] put on_ _A piece of beef, or else good mutton,_ _No, no, this is no meat._ _Forsooth they must have finer food,_ _A good vat hen with all her brood;_ _And then perhaps they’l eat._ _But of late ich had a crew together,_ _They were meer devils, ich ask’d them whether_ _That they were not of our nation._ _Good Lord defend us from all zuch,_ _They zaid they were wild ~Irish~, or else ~Dutch~,_ _They were of the Devils generation._