"Draw up," quoth friend Matthew; "Pull down," quoth friend John; "We shall be both hotter and colder anon." Thus, talking and scolding, they forward did speed; And Ralpho paced by under Newman the Swede. Into an old inn did this equipage roll, At a town they call Hodson, the sign of the Bull; Near a nymph with an urn that divides the highway, And into a puddle throws mother of tea. "Come here, my sweet landlady, pray how d'ye do? Where is Cicely so cleanly, and Prudence, and Sue? And where is the widow that dwelt here below? And the hostler that sung about eight years ago? And where is your sister, so mild and so dear, Whose voice to her maids like a trumpet was clear?" "By my troth," she replies, "you grow younger, I think: And pray, sir, what wine does the gentleman drink? "Why now let me die, sir, or live upon trust, If I know to which question to answer you first: Why, things, since I saw you, most strangely have varied; The hostler is hang'd, and the widow is married. "And Prue left a child for the parish to nurse, And Cicely went off with a gentleman's purse; And as to my sister, so mild and so dear, She has lain in the churchyard full many a year." "Well; peace to her ashes! What signifies grief? She roasted red veal, and she powder'd lean beef: Full nicely she knew to cook up a fine dish; For tough were her pullets, and tender her fish." PRIOR. This quotation reminds us of a little poem by the same author, entitled the _Secretary_, which, as it is short, and runs upon chaise-wheels, and seems to have slipped the notice it deserves, we will do ourselves the pleasure of adding. It was written when he was Secretary of Embassy at the Hague, where he seems to have edified the Dutch with his insisting upon enjoying himself. The astonishment with which the good Hollander and his wife look up to him as he rides, and the touch of yawning dialect at the end, are extremely pleasant.