ABSTRACT
I see! I Then rapt, she spoke no more. 255 'God save King Tibbald!' Grubstreet alleys roar.
So when Jove's block descended from on high, (As sings thy great fore-father, Ogilby,) Loud thunder to its bottom shook the bog, And the hoarse nation croak'd, God save King Log! 260
But how much all Indulgence is lost upon these people may appear from the just Reflection made on their constant Conduct and constant Fate in the following Epigram.
