ee,
Taming my wild Heart to thy loving Hand.
If thou dost love, my Kindness shall incite thee,
To bind our Loves up in a holy Band.

_Anne Oph - - - lia_, 1708.

_Salisbury, at the King's-Arms; seemingly to give the Reason why Miles
seem shorter in one Place than another._

When I set out from _London_, I tramp'd on the Way, }
I was brisk, and my Courage and Heart was full gay; }
So I fancy'd my Journey was nothing but Play, }
But as I went forward, a Day or two longer, }
The Miles seem'd more lengthen'd as I grew less stronger, }
And I wish'd in this Case to grow younger and younger. }

_S. O._ _Oct._ 17. 1717.

I walk'd all the Way between _London_ and _Exeter_.

_At the Crown at Harlow._

When Daizies gay, and Violets blue,
And Cowslips with their yellow Hue,
And Lady's Smocks of Silver white,
Paint all the Meadows with Delight,
Then shall I meet my charming Fair,
On ouzy Banks to take the Air;
There shall we taste delicious Love,
Equal to what is known Above.

_R. T. April_ 14. 1716.

_Upon a Window at the Old Crown at Ware in Hertfordshire; supposed to be
wrote by a slighted Lover._

Go you false and faithless Fair,
Gods above forbid my Fate,
First me Joys you do prepare,
Then you Sorrows do create;
For 'tis the Nature of your Sex,
First to pleasure, then perplex,
Happy's he without your Smiles.
Ever-blest he lives content;
In exorbitant Exiles,
Never can his Fate repent;
All his Wishes and Desires,
To destroy Love's burning Fires.

_R. C. June_ 14. 1731.

_At the Crown at Epping._

Tom. Rudge _won the Hat from_ George Redman.

_April_ 17. 1714.

He lifted with such Might and Strength,
As would have hurl'd him twice his Length,
And dash'd his Brains (if any) out:
But _Mars_ that still protects the stout,
In Pudding-Time came to his Aid.

Well done _Tom_; and _George_ was a clever
Fellow too. _C. H._ 1714.

_Sent to the Compiler from a Drinking-Glass at Pontack's-Head Tavern in
Fleet-Street._

Might all my Wishes but propitious prove,
And all my Wants supply'd by mighty _Jove_;
Give me dear _W----rs_, and I'll ask no more,
But think her dearer than the golden Shower.

_C. M._

_Sent to the Compiler from the same._

_From the Bog-House at Pancras-Wells._

Hither I came in haste to sh-t,
But found such Excremen