Je reçu hier de mon cousin, Pour etrennes tonneau de vin, C’est mon premier lui m’en repond, Pour la douceur et pour l’esprit, Mais puisqu’au au moins c’est mon second, Car c’est gratis comme j’ai dit. Ouvrons mon tout, rien ne me coute, Et buvons jusque a ne voir goutte. ... Quand vous me fites mon premier, En ravissant mon cœur, Iris, Je jurai de vous adorer, Malgre votre orgueilleux mepris, Et voici ce que je promis, J’amuserai jusqu’au dernier point. Maintenant je ne songe point, Aux sermens que je violés, Ai je tort? vous en jugerez Vous etes mon entier toujours. Plus mon entier encor que belle, Vous me jouez cent mauvais tours, Du beau sexe trop vrai modele, Doit ma constance etre eternelle? ON THE ENQUIRIES MADE AFTER THE WRITER OF A CERTAIN LEARNED PREFACE. Perturbed spirits spare your ink, Nor beat your stupid brains no longer, Soon to oblivion then shall sink Your persecuted Preface-monger. INCERTI AUCTORIS. RIDDLE. In every gift of Fortune I abound, In me is every vice and virtue found, With black and blue and green myself I paint, With me an atheist stands before a saint; Far above Nature, I make Art precede, And before sovereigns give the poor the lead. Many who bear the name of learned and wise, Did I not help them, you would oft despise; Nay more, within my grasp together bound The king, the beggar, and the harlot’s found; In one thing I excel the proudest lords, You always may depend upon my words. RIDDLE. I’m sometimes very honest, sometimes not, And less sincere at court than in a cot; Sometimes I pleasure give, and sometimes pain, And now I praise bestow, and now disdain; The lovelier I appear when small my throne, Enlarge but this, and all my beauty’s gone; Sullen and silent when my friends are gone, I’m e’en invisible if left alone; Few things there are, at least but few I know, Which cost so little, and so much bestow. RIDDLE. Tho’ so light is my weight that no strength is required, They who take me about are oftentimes tired; Short, long, narrow, broad, of materials not strong, The forms I assume to rude fingers belong; Under thousands of names I am every day seen, And of very great use to dull people have been; Nay! often the vulgarest creatures on earth Take me from the hands of the noblest in birth; Me the folks of the country in general disown, So civil and gay, I’m fit only for town; In the coldest of winters my back is quite bare, Yet so little I find of compassion or care, That as soon as I’m seen I’m thought worthy of none, My service is past, and my business is done. RIDDLE.