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Husband.
My Soul does very much rejoyce
To see thee, and to hear thy Voice :
I bless the Lord to find thee thus
Abound in Health as well as us,
And hope thou art dispos'd to stay
A while and comfort us this Day.'

Preacher.
I think I Mall not stay to dine,
But the Lord's Will be done, not inine.
Where's thygoodWife?Methinks I want
To see her, she's a pious Saint;
In Wedlock.thou art truly bleft, .
Of Women she's the very best.
Pray let her know that I am here,
And tell her I desire to see her.

Husband.
The Lord preserve her! here she comes,
Sh'as just been sweeping out herRooms,
You must excuse her Hufliff's Dress,
She's always doing, I profess,

I'm

... Wife.
I'ın very happy, worthy Sir,
To see so great a Stranger here.
I hope good Madam Cant is well,
And pritty Mrs. Abigail.
Dear Sir, I wish I could have seen
Them here, how bless'd should I have

(been; Tho' I'm alham’d, I must confess, T'appear in such a homely Dress.

Preacher.
Thou'rt a good Woman, thou haft Grace
That beft adorns a beauteous Face;
I think thy Weeds become thee well,
Thou would'At nor dress like Fezabel.
To tell the truth, I've seldom seen
A Wife more.lovely or more clean.
Give me thy Hand, thou fruitful Bride
The Lord at all times be thy Guide:
How do thy little Comforts fare,
Those tender Twigs,their Parents Care?

Pray

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Pray call 'em hither, let me bless
Those pritty hopeful Babes of Grace.

Wife.
Here, Aram, come, my little Saint,
Where's your low Bow to Mr. Cant ?
Daughter! Where art? Come hither Rutbe
Fie, pull your Fingers from your Mouth.
Look up, my Dear, hold up your Head.
Where's your fine Curtesy? There's my

(Maid. Preacher, Lord fanctify these Lambs, and grant That they thy Graces may never want : Shew 'em thy way, that they may be A Comfort to thy Spouse and thee; The Lord sufficiently hath Thew'd His Love to both in such a Brood. May they fill greater Blessings grow To thee that brought 'em forth in woe, And as their Years encrease, inherit A double portion of the Spirit.

Wife

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Wife.
Thanks to you, rev'rend Sir,may Heaven
Reward the Blessing you have given.
Rebecca, take my Closer Key
And fetch thar Bottle unto me
Thy Master brought me home last Night
For Palm, and said he knew'rwas right;
And with the Bottle pray bring in
A Glass. Take care you wash it clean.

Preacher.
I hope thou dost not think that I
Drink Wine, except I'm fick or dry;
I ne'er take any thing that's strong,
One Glass I fear will do me wrong.
E'en let it reft upon the Shelf,
Thou'dft berter keep it for thy self.

Wife.
Good Sir, vouchsafe, at my request,
To drink this Glass, 'tis but a raste,
It holds bur half a Pint at most,
Will you be pleas'd to have a Toast?

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Preacher.

Preacher. No, by no means, if I muft rake So large a Dose, 'tis for thy fake. Good Lord give thou a Blessing to it, That when it's down I may not rue it. Well, 'tis exceeding good indeed, I wish it mayn't offend my Head. May'st thee, at all times, for thy ease, Abound in Comforts, such as these, Tis a prime Cordial, I protest, This ought not to be drank in waste.

Husband.
Alas, one Glass, Sir, will not warm ye,
I'ın fure a second cannot harm ye;
Cold Weather does strong Wine require,
Fill out, my Dear, ------ A little higher,
Pray give the Glass to Mr. Cant,
So long a Walk may inake him faint.

Preacher.
Thou best of all good. Women'! hold
Thy Hand, consider I am old.

Thou

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