But, as the writing doth prescribe,
'Tis fit the ingredients we provide.
Away he went, and search'd the stews,
And every street about the Mews:
Diseases, impudence, and lies,

Are found and brought him in a trice.
From Hackney then he did provide,
A clumsy air and awkward pride:
From lady's toilet next he brought
Noise, scandal, and malicious thought.
These Jove put in an old close-stool,
And with them mix'd the vain, the fool.
But now came on his greatest care,
Of what he should his paste prepare;
For common clay or finer mould
Was much too good, such stuff to hold
At last he wisely thought on mud
So rais'd it up, and call'd it-Cludd.
With this, the lady well content,
Low courtesy'd, and away she went.

;

"Hear my request," the virgin said;
"Let which I please of all the Nine
Attend, whene'er I want their aid,
Obey my call, and only mine.'

By vow oblig'd, by passion led,

The god could not refuse her prayer: He wav'd his wreath thrice o'er her head, Thrice mutter'd something to the air,

And now he thought to seize his due;
But she the charm already tried:
Thalia heard the call, and flew
To wait at bright Ardelia's side.

On sight of this celestial prude,
Apollo thought it vain to stay;
Nor in her presence durst be rude,
But made his leg and went away.

He hop'd to find some lucky hour,
When on their queen the Muses wait;
But Pallas owns Ardelia's power:
For vows divine are kept by Fate,

at how would overload a
Lead them a dance of man
Then rear them to a goodl
Each number had its differ
Heroic strains could build a
Sonnets, or elegies to Chlor
Might raise a house about t
Alyric ode would slate; a
Would tile; an epigram wo
But, to their own or land
Now Poets feel this art is lo
Not one of all our tuneful th
Can raise a lodging for a so
For Jove consider'd well the
Observ'd they grew a nume
And should they build as fa
Twould ruin undertakers qu
This evil therefore to preven
He wisely chang'd their ele
On earth the God of Wealth
Sole patron of the building
Leaving the Wits the spacio
With licence to build castle
And 'tis conceiv'd, their old
To lodge in garrets comes f
Premising thus, in moder
The better half we have to

SOF WHITEHALL THAT WAS
T, 1703.

lanies, in which this lively satire s express some compunction for injustice to Vanbrugh, both as a omedies of that celebrated dramatist f light, easy, and natural dialogues;

ww

Lead them a dance of many a mile,
Then rear them to a goodly pile.
Each number had its different power:
Heroic strains could build a tower;
Sonnets, or elegies to Chloris,
Might raise a house about two stories
A lyric ode would slate; a catch
Would tile; an epigram would thatch.

But, to their own or landlord's cost,
Now Poets feel this art is lost.
Not one of all our tuneful throng
Can raise a lodging for a song.
For Jove consider'd well the case,
Observ'd they grew a numerous race;
And should they build as fast as write,
Twould ruin undertakers quite.
This evil therefore to prevent,
He wisely chang'd their element:
On earth the God of Wealth was made
Sole patron of the building trade;
Leaving the Wits the spacious air,
With licence to build castles there:
And 'tis conceiv'd, their old pretence
To lodge in garrets comes from thence.
Premising thus, in modern way,
The better half we have to say;