In comes the family, but he fits ftill,

Thinks, "Let them take the other chairs that will !"

The Mafter thus accofts him, "Sir, you 're wet,

"Pray have a cushion underneath your

feet."

Thinks he, "If I do fpoil it, need I care?

I fee he has eleven more to fpare."

Dinner 's brought up; the Wife is bid retreat, And at the upper end must be his feat. "This is not very ufual," thinks the Clown: "But is not all the family his own? "And why fhould I, for contradiction's fake, "Lofe a good dinner, which he bids me take? If from his table fhe difcarded be,

What need I care! there is the more for me." After a while, the Daughter's bid to stand, And bring him whatsoever he 'll command. Thinks he, "The better from the fairer hand !" Young Mafter next must rise, to fill him wine, And ftarve himself, to fee the booby dine:

}

He does. The Father afks, "What have you there? "How dare you give a stranger Vinegar ?" "Sir, 'twas Champagne I gave him.”—“ Sir, indeed! "Take him and fcourge him till the rascal bleed; "Don't fpare him for his tears or age: I'll try "If Cat-of-nine-tails can excuse a lye."

Thinks the Clown, "That 'twas wine, I do believe;

"But fuch young rogues are aptest to deceive :
"He's none of mine, but his own flesh and blood,
"And how know I but 't may be for his good?"
When the deffert came on, and jellies brought,
Then was the difmal scene of finding fault :

They

They were fuch hideous, filthy, poisonous stuff,
Could not be rail'd at, nor reveng'd enough.
Humpus was ask'd who made them. Trembling he
Said, "Sir, it was my Lady gave them me."
"No more fuch Poifon fhall the ever give,

"I'll burn the witch; 't'ent fitting she should live :
"Set faggots in the court, I'll make her fry;
"And pray, good Sir, may't please you to be by?"
Then, fmiling, fays the Clown, "Upon my life,

"A pretty fancy this, to burn one's Wife!

And, fince I find 'tis really your defign, "Pray let me juft ftep home, and fetch

you

mine."

OF DREAMS.

"For a Dream cometh through the multitude of Bufi"nefs."

ECCLES. V. 4

"Somnia, quæ ludunt mente volitantibus umbris, “Non delubra deûm nec ab æthere numina mittunt, "Sed fibi quifque facit," &c. PETRONIUS.

T

HE flitting Dreams, that play before the wind,
Are not by Heaven for Prophefies defign'd;

Nor by æthereal Beings fent us down,

But each man is creator of his own:

For, when their weary limbs are funk in ease,
The fouls effay to wander where they please;
The scatter'd images have space to play,
And Night repeats the labours of the Day.

THE

I

THE

ART OF MAKING PUDDINGS.

I. HASTY PUDDING.

SING of FOOD, by British Nurse defign'd,

To make the Strippling brave, and Maiden kind.

Delay not, Muse, in numbers to rehearse

The pleasures of our life, and finews of our verse.
Let PUDDING's dish, most wholesome, be thy theme, 5
And dip thy fwelling plumes in fragrant Cream.
Sing then that Difh fo fitting to improve
A tender modefty and trembling love;
Swimming in Butter of a golden hue,
Garnish'd with drops of Rofe's fpicy dew.

Sometimes the frugal Matron feems in hafte,
Nor cares to beat her Pudding into Paste :
Yet Milk in proper Skillet she will place,
And gently fpice it with a blade of Mace;
Then fet fome careful Damfel to look to 't,
And still to ftir away the Bishop's-foot;

For, if burnt Milk fhould to the bottom stick,
Like over-heated zeal, 'twould make folks fick.
Into the Milk her Flour fhe gently throws,
As Valets now would powder tender Beaux :
The liquid forms in HASTY MASS unite
Forms equally delicious, as they 're white.
In fhining dish the HASTY MASS is thrown,
And seems to want no graces but its own.

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20

Yet

Yet ftill the Housewife brings in fresh supplies,
To gratify the tafte, and please the eyes.
She on the surface lumps of Butter lays,

Which, melting with the heat, its beams displays;
From whence it caufes, wondrous to behold,

A Silver foil bedeck'd with ftreams of Gold!

وف

30

II. A HEDGE-HOG after a QUAKING-PUDDING. AS Neptune, when the three-tongued fork he takes, With ftrength divine the globe terrestrial shakes, The highest Hills, Nature's ftupendous Piles,

Break with the force, and quiver into Ifles ;

Yet on the ruins grow the lofty Pines,

35

And Snow unmelted in the vallies fhines:

Thus when the Dame her HEDGE-HOG-PUDDING breaks,

Her Fork indents irreparable ftreaks,

The trembling lump, with Butter all around,
Seems to perceive its fall, and then be drown'd;
And yet the tops appear, whilft Almonds thick
With bright Loaf-fugar on the furface stick.

III. PUDDINGS of VARIOUS COLOURS in a Dish.

40

YOU, Painter-like, now variegate the shade,
And thus from PUDDINGS there's a Landscape made.
And Wife and London *, when they would difpofe 45
Their Ever-greens into well-order'd rows,

So mix their colours, that each different plant
Gives light and fhadow as the others want.

* The two royal gardeners. KING.

2

IV. Making

IV. Making of a GOOD PUDDING gets a GOOD
HUSBAND.

YE Virgins, as these lines you kindly take,
So may you still fuch glorious Pudding make,
That crouds of Youth may ever be at strife,
To gain the sweet composer for his wife 1

V. SACK and SUGAR to QUAKING-PUDDING.
"Oh, Delicious !"

BUT where must our Confession first begin,
If Sack and Sugar once be thought a Sin?

VI.

BROILED PUDDING.

HID in the dark, we mortals feldom know

From whence the fource of happiness may flow:

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Who to Broil'd Pudding would their thoughts have bent
From bright PEWTERIA'S love-fick discontent ?
-Yet fo it was, PEWTERIA felt Love's heat

In fiercer flames than those which roaft her meat.
No Pudding 's loft, but may with fresh delight
Be either fried next day, or broil'd at night.

VII. MUTTON PUDDING.
BUT Mutton, thou moft nourishing of meat,
Whose fingle joint * may constitute a treat;
When made a Pudding, you excel the rest
As much as That of other Food is beft!

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