Poem by Matthew Prior

On Hall’s Death

  An Epigram

Poor HALL caught his death standing under a spout, 
Expecting till midnight when NAN would come out,
But fatal his patience, as cruel the Dame, 
And curst was the Weather that quench’d the man’s flame, 

Whoe’er thou art, that read’st these moral lines, 
Make love at home, and go to bed betimes.

1. Cloe Jealous
2. Upon This Passage In Scaligeriana
3. An Ode to Mr. Howard
4. If Wine and Music Have the Power
5. Answer to Cloe Jealous. The Author Sick

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