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287

Journey to Copt-Hall.

Thirty Six Miles—too far to walk a foot
And Pegasus, God knows, will never do't:
Yet I will on—It is decree'd,
I'l hire a more substantial Steed.
Accoutrement of Sword and Coat
Useless Ornament I vote.
Thus borrowing Whip and Cordibeck,
Proceed we next to Tick for Hack.
With Faith I'l pay, and six pence earnest
I got my Quondam Coach-horse harnest:
I mount, and great as Hudibrass,
With unarm'd kick urge on my horse;
Whilst he by instinct stil approaches
His old acquaintance of the Coaches:
With whipping constant as his trott,
My Beast and I to Eppin gott,
From whence, with loss of Whip and Leather,
I brought my sober Machin heither.
I came I say,—what once to see again
My Horse I'd pardon, and renew my Pain.
Here well-set Simile might shine
Of Pilgrimage to Power divine,
Of zealous Persian who wou'd run
To gaze on beams of distant Sun;
But th'are abus'd by franctic Lee
And sung to Stuttring Durfey's Ge sol re.
Well then—to Supper admirable
I sit, near Mahon grave and head of Table
Methodically She carves Cunney
Whilst Frenchman talks of blood and mony
Diff'rent Discourses crown the Meal
Much of Religion past and much of Veal
But one thing spoilt my appetite
Monsieur till ten from Candle-light
Extended Three Prodigious Lies—Good night.