Lady B— B— finding in the Authors Room some Verses Unfinished, underwrit a Stanza of her own, with Railery upon him, which gave Occasion to this Ballade. August, 1702. To the Tune of the Cutpurse. I. Once on a time, as old Stories reherse, A Fryer would needs show his Talent in Latin; But was sorely put to't in the midst of a Verse, Because he could find no Word to come pat in. Then all in the Place He left a void Space, And so went to Bed in a desperate Case. When, Behold the next Morning, a wonderful Riddle, He found it was strangely fill'd in the Middle. Cho. Let Censuring Criticks then think what they list on't, Who would not Write Verses with such an assistant. II. This put me the Fryar into an Amazement, For he wisely consider'd it must be a Sprite, That came through the Key-Hole, or in at the Casement, And it needs must be one that could both Read and Write: Yet he did not know If it were Friend or Foe, Or whether it came from Above or Below. Howe'er it was civil in Angel or Elf, For he ne're could have fill'd it so well of himself. Cho. Let Censuring Criticks then think what they list on't, Who would not Write Verses with such an assistant. III. Even so Master Doctor had Puzzled his Brains In making a Ballad, but was at a Stand, He had mixt little Wit with a great deal of Pains, When he found a new Help from Invisible Hand. Then Good Dr. S— Pay Thanks for the Gift, For you freely must own you were at a Dead lift; And tho' some Malicious Young Spirit did do't, You may know by the Hand, it had no Cloven Foot. Cho. Let Censuring Criticks then think what they list on't, Who would not Write Verses with such an assistant.