The works of Mr. Thomas Brown :: :: University of Virginia Library

The works of Mr. Thomas Brown

Serious and Comical, In Prose and Verse; In four volumes. The Fourth Edition, Corrected, and much Enlarged from his Originals never before publish'd. With a key to all his Writings

Brown, Thomas (1663-1704)

Volume 1.

THE SECOND VOLUME OF THE WOKRS OF Mr. THO. BROWN. Containing LETTERS FROM THE Dead to the Living, And from the Living to the Dead. Both Serious and Comical.

THE Third Volume OF THE WORKS OF Mr. Thomas Brown, Serious and Comical, In Prose and Verse.

THE Fourth and Last Volume OF THE WORKS OF Mr. THO. BROWN. CONTAINING

An Elegy on that most Orthodox, and Pains-taking Divine, Mr. Samuel Smith, Ordinary of Newgate, who dy'd of a Quinsey, on St. Bartholomew's Day, the 24th of August, 1698.

An Epitaph upon that profound and learned Casuist, the late Ordinary of Newgate.

An Elegy in Memory of the Gallant Viscount Dundee, who was killed by a random Shot, after he had won the Battle at Gillecrankey. Writ by Mr. Brown, at the Request of Dr. Griffith and Mr. Burges.

The Mourning Poet: Or, The unknown Comforts of Imprisonment, written in the Year, 1703. and Calculated for the Meridian of the three populous Universities of the Queen's Bench, the Marshalsea, and the Fleet; but may indifferenly serve any Prison in the Kingdom of England, Dominion of Wales, or Town of Berwick upon Tweed.

To my Friend Mr. Playford; on the Publication of his second Book of Pills.

Upon the Encampment at Hounslow-Heath.

Upon the setting up of the Statue of Queen Elizabeth, of ever blessed Memory, in the Royal Exchange London.

In Praise of the Bottle. A Song.

The Rover. A Song.

The Campaign. A Song.

The Libertine. A Song.

A Catch.

A Match for the Devil. In Imitation of M. Rabelais.

The Whet.

Song.

On Sternhold and Hopkins, and the New Version of David's Psalms.

A Translation of Lesbia, Mi dicit semper male. Out of Catullus.

A Song in Ridicule of a famous Musician, who was caught serenading his Mistress with his Base-Viol, in a very frosty Night.

The Good Fellow.

Commendatory Verses on the Author of the two Arthurs, and the Satyr against Wit. By several Hands, and collected by Mr. Brown.

To his Cruel Mistress. Out of French.

An Ode upon a Kiss. Out of French.

A Translation.

On the Death of Dr. Kirleus.

An Epitaph on Dr. Kirleus of Grays-Inn-Lane, occasion'd by his Friends reporting him only gone into the Country.

The Fable of the Satyr, and the Traveller.

A Dialogue betwixt the New Lotteries, and the Royal-Oak.

An Impromptu to Shadwell's Memory by Dr. B---

Antenor's Speech in the Second Æneid, applied to the Declaration for Liberty of Conscience. In the Year 1687.

Prologue spoken before the University of Oxford, 1683.

Epilogue.

A Catch. By Mr. T. Brown.

A Panegyrick upon Col. George Walker.

To Mr. D'Urfey, upon his incomparable Ballads, call'd by him Lyrick Odes.

On Flowers in a Lady's Bosom.

The London Vintners Answer to Mr. Brown.

To Mr. Henry Purcel.

On Dr. Sherlock.

Upon the taking of the new Oaths.

Tom Brown having committed some great Fault at the University, the Dean of Christ Church threaten'd to expel him; but Tom, with a very submissive Epistle, begging Pardon, so pleas'd the Dean, that he was minded to forgive him, upon this Condition, viz. That he should translate this Epigram out of Marshal extempore.

[When Eve the Fruit had tasted]

[As moody Job, in shirtless Case]

A Supplement to Tho. Brown's Works.

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101

An Epitaph on Dr. Kirleus of Grays-Inn-Lane, occasion'd by his Friends reporting him only gone into the Country.

The famous Kirleus, Collegiate Physician,
As cheap a Practitioner as you cou'd wish one,
Who only with Diet-Drink, and a few Pills,
Cur'd Gout, Stone, and Pox, and a Thousand more Ills;
Is gone to the Country Infernal with Physick,
To cure Rhadamanthus, they say of the Tissick.
Let not Nendick then brag,
Of his Tetrachymag,
Nor himself Tillburg prize on,
Drinking Bumpers of Poyson.
So useful a Doctor our Youngsters will miss,
He hinder'd no Business, till Death hinder'd his.
A Journey thus tedious all Sporters may mourn,
For 'tis Forty to One that he'll never return.