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THE COUNTRY COUSIN.

T Here was a rich man, and he liv’d in the city. He had a handfome wife, & fhe was witty, She had the craftinefs to write a letter, She lov'd her hufband, but a friend far better. Hutband, faid fhe,Iam grown very fickly, Send for my Coufine, pray fend for her quickly, For fhe's the only one can give me phyfic. Can give me eafe for my cough and phthifie.

The letter fhe fent, and fhe over perus’d it, Is not this a good oferr, I'll not refute it, I’ll to fome barber go, and be trimin’d moft neatly, Like to fome young woman dreft moft completely.

When that fhe came to her country Coufin’s, Kiffes fhe gave him fourteen to the dozen ; Hafband, fays fhe, ’tis my country Coufin, Pray let her well, fhe's the beft of a dozen.

Coufin, fays he, You are welcome and kindly, Supper is ready, and all things done finely ; I have been miles to-day ahove a dozen, Pray let me go to bed my loving Coufin.

This man dreamt a dream that he was horn’d, Buck's horns all round his head grievoufly fwafm’d. He jumpt into the room without any dodgin, And found her embrac’d in the arms of her Coufin.

He fearch’d her all o’er, found he was a man, Sir, Ami nothing he faid, and he made hirn no anfwer, He turn’d her out of doors, fhe and her Coufin, And wasn’t this a merry jeft, the beft of a dozen.