ON THE UNIVERSITY CARRIER WHO SICKN'D IN THE TIME OF HIS
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ERE lies old Hobson, Death hath broke his girt,And here alas, hath laid him in the dirt,Or els the ways being foul, twenty to one,He's here stuck in a slough, and overthrown.'Twas such a shifter, that if truth were known,Death was half glad when he had got him down;For he had any time this ten yeers full,Dodg'd with him, betwixt Cambridge and the Bull.And surely, Death could never have prevail'd,Had not his weekly cours of carriage fail'd; 10But lately finding him so long at home,And thinking now his journeys end was come,And that he had tane up his latest Inne,In the kind office of a ChamberlinShew'd him his room where he must lodge that night,Pull'd off his Boots, and took away the light:If any ask for him, it shall be sed,Hobson has supt, and 's newly gon to bed.
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