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.

[dedication]

Tho. Brown's Epitaph,

The Beauties, to Armida.

[Soteria Ormondiana] The same in English, upon the Recovery of the Duke of Ormond.

The beginning of the first Satire of Persius imitated.

A SATIRE against WOMAN.

A Satire on MARRIAGE.

A Satire upon the French King, on the Peace of Reswick.

Being committed for the foregoing Satire, he wrote the following Petition to the Lords in Council Assembled, by which he receiv'd his Enlargement from Prison.

A Satire upon an ignorant Quack, that murder'd a Friend's Child, and occasion'd the Mother, upon the News of it, to Miscarry.

An Inscription upon a Tobacco-Box.

To a Young Lady, who appeared frequently leaning out of her Chamber Window.

Upon a Lady's being disappointed by a young Scotch Lord.

The Temperate Epicure, written by that Celebrated Wit of France, Monsieur la Fountaine, when troubled with a Rheumatism.

An Epigram upon Sir R. B.

An EPIGRAM.

On a Blind Man in Love.

On the TAX upon SALT.

The Pleasures of LOVE.

Cupid turn'd Tinker.

The General LOVER.

A Tale from Bocas, or a Cure for Cuckoldom.

The Highlander, a Satire.

An Epigram, occasion'd by the News that Sir R--- Bl---re's Paraphrase upon Job was in the Press.

Upon the Knighting Sir R--- B---re, for his incomparable Poem call'd King Arthur.

Upon King Arthur, partly writ in the Doctor's Coach, and partly in a Coffee-House.

Upon seeing a Man light a Pipe of Tobacco in a Coffee-House with a Leaf of King Arthur.

Epigram, occasion'd by the Passage in the Satire against Wit, that reflects upon Mr. Tate, and ends thus: He's honest, and, as Wit comes in, will pay.

A Story of a Greek Chevalier, Predecessor in a direct Line to the British Knight.

To Elkanah Settle, the City-Poet.

To the Author of the Satire against Wit, upon concealing his Name.

On Job newly travestied by Sir R--- B---re.

To Sir R--- B---re, upon his unhappy Talent of Praising and Railing.

On Sir R--- B---re's Project to erect a Bank of Wit.

To Sir R--- B---re, on the two Wooden Horses before Sadlers-Hall.

Epigram upon King Arthur.

An Epitome of a Poem truly call'd, A Satire against Wit; done for the undeceiving of some Readers, who have mistaken the Panegyrick in that immortal Work for the Satire, and the Satire for the Panegyrick.

Epigram, Upon the Fortunate and Auspicious Reigns of Queen Elizabeth, of happy Memory, and our most Gracious Queen Ann.

To Mr. Dryden, on his Conversion.

Upon the Pensioners in the Parliament.

A Comical Panegyrick on that familiar Animal, by the Vulgar call'd a Louse: By Mr. Willis, of St. Mary-Hall, Oxon; with some Additions by Mr. Tho. Brown.

Upon the Anonymous Author of Legion's humble Address to the Lords.

To that most senseless Scoundrel, the Author of Legion's humble Address to the Lords, who wou'd persuade the People of England to leave the Commons, and depend upon the Lords.

A pleasant Dialogue beeween the Pillory and Daniel de Foe.

The last Observator: Or, The Devil in Mourning. A Dialogue between John Tutchin and his Countryman.

Advice to the Kentish Long-Tails, by the Wise Men of Gotham. In answer to their late sawcy Petition to the Parliament, 1701

To a Lady, whom he refus'd to Marry, because he lov'd her.

Jo. Haines's Reformation-Prologue, drest as a deep Mourner.

Jo. Haines's Reformation-Prologue.

On his Friend Owen Swan, at the Black Swan-Tavern in Bartholomew-Lane.

MR. SWAN'S ANSWER.

PLINY'S EPISTLES.

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

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The last Observator: Or, The Devil in Mourning. A Dialogue between John Tutchin and his Countryman.

Obs.
Come honest Countryman, what News dost bring?

Countr.
Faith, Master John, they say you're like to swing.

Obs.
You know I once for Hanging did Petition.

Countr.
Ay, see th'Effects of preaching up Sedition,
But the most general Report supposes,
You'll on the Pillory tell Peoples Noses,
When that Day comes—
Your trusty Farmer here most humbly begs
You'll let him give you a small Treat of Eggs.

Obs.
Jesting apart; hast with thee brought some Nancy,
Or Protestant March Beer to raise my Fancy?
Inspir'd by that, my Thoughts will quicker flow,
And I'll by far out-hymn the fam'd De Foe.

Countr.
No, not a Drop, I'm to be gull'd no more;
Too much you've trespass'd on the ancient Score.
I'll be no longer with Whig Birdlime caught,
Ne'er stir, I wou'd not save thee for a Groat.

150

Misled by thee, I left my Herds and Flocks,
And must turn Politician, with a Pox.

Obs.
And where's the harm to know the Springs of State?

Countr.
It only hasten'd Hone's and Rouse's Fate,

Obs.
Happen the worst, I've Friends will pay my cost.

Countr.
You reckon Nobs, I fear, without your Host.

Obs.
Won't merciful Low-Church espouse my Cause?

Countr.
They'll leave you to the Mercy of the Laws.

Obs.
But then the Whigs will back me tooth and nail.

Countr.
Yes, those are Saving Cards, that never fail.

Obs.
Old-Nick thus uses Witches, as they tell us,
And drops the gaping Wretches at the Gallows.
Will none my Person then from Malice Skreen?
Say, Countryman, what think'st thou of my Queen?

Countr.
'Slife not a word of her, thou Seandal-Pedlar
Thy Loyalty's as rotten as a Medlar.
After such Libelling the Royal Race,
How dar'st thou sue to Majesty for Grace?

Obs
What, am I then by all the World forsaken?

Countr.
E'en get your Friends the Jews to save your Bacon;
Or should you to the Devil's Church repair,
None will suspect you'd venture Play-house Air.

Obs.
Howe'er I'm thus abandon'd by the rest,
Yet while I'm still with thy dear Friendship blest—

Countr.
No Friendship nor Relief expect from me,
Thro' all thy thin Pretences now I see;
No more with sowre Republicans I'll herd,
But pluck those prating Rascals by the Beard.
No more with Mercenary Scribes take part,
But get me Home, and mind my Plough and Cart;
Scow'r o'er my Grounds by break of Day, old Tutchin,
And freely pay my Taxes without grudging.
No more notch'd Levi's holy Buckram hear,
But with my Betters to the Church I'll steer.
Dance with our Lads and Lasses on the Green,
Then steal a harmless Buss—And so—

GOD save the QUEEN.