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He's dear, you frugal; choose my cheaper lay, | Her only grief is, that she cannot be
And be your reformation all my pay.
Lavinia is polite, but not profane;
To church as constant as to Drury-lane.
She decently in form pays Heav'n its due ;
And makes a civil visit to her pew.
Her lifted fan, to give a solemn air,
Conceals her face, which passes for a pray'r :
Curt'sies to curt'sies then with grace succeed;
Not one the fair omits, but at the creed.
Or, if she joins the service, 'tis to speak ;
Thro' dreadful silence the pentheart might break;
Untaught to bear it, women talk away
To God himself, and fondly think they pray.
But sweet the acceut, and their air refin'd;'
For they're before their Maker-and mankind:
When ladies once are proud of praying well,
Satan himself will toll the parish bell.
Acquainted with the world, and quite well
Drusa receives her visitants in bed; [bred;
But, chaste as ice, this Vesta, to defy
The very blackest tongue of calumny,
When from her sheets her lovely form she lifts,
She begs you just would turn you while she shifts.
Those charms are greatest which decline the
That makes the banquet poignant and polite.
There is no woman where there's no reserve;
And 'tis on plenty your poor lovers starve.
But, with the modern fair, meridian merit
Is a fierce thing they call a nymph of spirit.
Mark well the rollings of her flaming eye,
And tread on tiptoe, if you dare draw nigh.
"Or if you take a lion by the beard*,
"Or dare defy the fell Hyrcanian pard,
* Or arm'd rhinoceros, or rough Russian bear,"
First make your will, and then converse with her.
This lady glories in profuse expence,
And thinks distraction is magnificence;
To beggar her gallant, is some delight;
To be more fatal still, is exquisite.
Had ever nymph such reason to be glad ?
In duel fell two lovers; one ran mad.
Her foes their honest execrations pour ;
Her lovers only should detest her more.
Thrice happy they who think I boldly feign,
And startle at a mistress of my brain.
Flavia is constant to her old gallant,
And generously supports him in his want.
But marriage is a fetter, is a snare,
A hell no lady so polite can bear.
She's faithful, she's observant, and with pains
Her angel brood of bastards she maintains,
Nor least advantage has the fair to plead,
But that of guilt above the marriage bed.
Amasia hates a prude, and scorns restraint;
Whate'er she is, she 'll not appear a saint;
Her soul superior flies formality:
So gay her air, her conduct is so free,
Solne might suspect the nymph not over good-
Nor would they be mistaken if they should.
Unmarried Abra puts on forinal airs; [pray'rs.
Her cushion's threadbare with her constant
At once engag'd in pray'r and charity.
And this, to do her justice, must be said:
"Who would not think that Abra was a maid?”
Some ladies are too beauteous to be wed;
For where's the man that's worthy of their bed?
If no disease reduce her pride before,
Lavinia will be ravish'd at threescore.
Then she submits to venture in the dark;
And nothing now is wanting but her spark.
Lucia thinks happiness consists in state;
She weds an idiot, but she eats in plate.
The goods of fortune which her soul possess,
Are but the ground of unmade happiness,
The rude material; › wisdom add to this,
Wisdom the sole artificer of bliss.
She, from herself, if so compell'd by need,
Of thin content can draw the subtle thread;
But (no detraction to her sacred skill)
If she can work in gold, 'tis better still.
If Tullia had been blest with half her sense,
None could too much admire her excellence.
But since she can make error shine so bright,
She thinks it vulgar to defend the right.
With understanding she is quite o'er-run ;
And by too great accomplishments undone.
With skill she vibrates her eternal tongue,
For ever most divinely in the wrong.
Naked in nothing should a woman be,
But veil her very wit with modesty;
Let man discover, let not her display,
But yield her charms of mind with sweet delay.
For pleasure form'd, perversely some believe,
To make themselves important, men must grieve.
Lesbia the fair, to fire her jealous lord,
Pretends the fop she laughs at is ador'd.
In vain she's proud of secret innocence;
The fact she feigns were scarce a worse offence.
Mira, endow'd with ev'ry charm to bless,
Has no design but on her husband's peace;
He lov'd her much, and greatly was he mov'd
At small inquietudes in her he lov'd.
"How charming this!"The pleasure lasted
Now ev'ry day the fit comes thick and strong;
At last he found the charmer only feign'd;
And was diverted when he should be pain'd.
What greater vengeance have the Gods in store
How tedious life, now she can plagué no more!
She tries her thousand arts, but none succeed;
She's forc'd a fever to procure in leed:
Thus strictly prov'd this virtuous loving wife,
Her husbands' pain was dearer than her life.
Anxious Melania rises to my view,
Who never thinks her lover pays his due :
Visit, present, treat, flatter, and adore;
Her majesty to-morrow calls for more.
His wounded eats complaints eternal fill,
As unoil'd hinges querulously shrill.
"You went last night with Celia to the ball."
You prove it false. "Not Go? that's worst of all."
Nothing can please her, nothing not inflame;
And arrant contradictions are the same.
Her lover must be sad, to please her spleen;
His mirth is an inexpiable sin :
For, of all rivals that can pain her breast, [rest;
There's one that wounds far deeper than the
To wreck her quiet, the most dreadful shelf
Is, if her lover dares enjoy himself.
And this, because she 's exquisitely fair;
Should I dispute her beauty, how she'd stare!
How would Melania be surpris'd to hear
She's quite deform'd! and yet the case is clear.
What's female beauty but an air divine,
Thro' which the mind's all-gentle graces shine?
They, like the sun, irradiate all between ;
The body charms because the soul is scen.
Hence men are often captives of a face,
They know not why, of no peculiar grace ;
Some forms, though bright, no mortal man can
Some none resist, though not exceeding fair.
Aspasia's highly born, and nicely bred,
Of taste refin'd, in life and manners read,
Yet reaps no fruit from her superior sense,
But to be teas'd by her own excellence.
"Folks are so awkward! things so unpolite!"
She's elegantly pain'd from morn to night.
Her delicacy's shock'd where'er she goes;
Each creature's imperfections are her woes.
Heaven by its favors has the fair distress'd,
And pour'd such blessings-that she can't be
Ah! why so vain, though blooming in thy Thou shining, frail, ador'd, and wretched thing! Old age will come, disease may come before; Fifteen is full as mortal as threescore: Thy fortune and thy charms may soon decay; But grant these fugitives prolong their stay, Their basis totters, their foundation shakes, Life that supports them in a moment breaks. Then wrought into the soul let virtue shine; The ground eternal, as the work divine.
Julia's a manager, she 's born for rule, And knows her wiser husband is a fool; Assemblies holds, and spins the subtle thread That guides the lover to his fair one's bed; For difficult amours can smooth the way, And tender letters dictate or convey. But, if depriv'd of such important cares, Her wisdom condescends to less affairs. For her own breakfast she'll project a scheme, Nor take her tea without a stratagem ; Presides o'er trifles with a serious face, Important by the virtue of grimace.
Ladies supreme among amusements reign, By nature born to soothe and entertain; Their prudence in a share of folly lies; Why will they be so weak as to be wise?
Thus ev'ry hour Brunetta is to blame,
Because th' occasion is beneath her aim.
Think nought a trifle, though it small appear;
Small sandsthemountain, moments maketheyear,
And trifles life. Your care to trifles give,
Or you may die before you truly live.
Go breakfast with Alicia; there you 'll see. Simplex munditiis, to the last degree. Unlac'd her stays, her night-gown is untied, And what she has of head-dress is aside. She drawls her words, and waddles in her pace; Unwash'dher hands, and much besnuff 'dherface. A nail uncut, and head uncomb'd she loves; And would draw on jack-boots as soon as gloves; Gloves by queen Bess's maidens might be mist, Her blessed eyes ne'er saw a female fist. Lovers, beware! to wound how can she fail With scarlet finger and long jetty nail? For Hervey the first wit she cannot be ; Nor, cruel Richard, the first toast for thee. Since full each other station of renown, Who would not be the greatest trapes in town? Women were made to give our eyes delight; A female sloven is an odious sight.
Fair Isabella is so fond of fame, That her dear self is her eternal theme! Thro' hopes of contradiction oft she 'll say, "Methinks I look so wretchedly to-day!" When most the world applauds you, most be"Tis often less a blessing than a snare. [ware: Distrust mankind; with your own heart confer, And dread even there to find a flatterer. The breath of others raises our renown; Our own as surely blows the pageant down; Take up no more than you by worth can claim, Lest soon you prove a bankrupt in your fame.
But own I must in this perverted age, Who most deserve can't always most engage. So far is worth from making glory sure, It often hinders what it should procure. Whom praise we most? the virtuous, brave, and No; wretches whom in secret we despise.[wise? And who so blind as not to see the cause? No rival's rais'd by such discreet applause; And yet of credit it lays in a store, By which our spleen may wound true worth
Syrenna is for ever in extremes, And with a vengeance she commends or blames. Conscious of her discernment, which is good, She strains too much to make it understood. Her judgement just, her sentence is too strong; Because she's right, she's ever in the wrong. Brunetta's wise in actions great and rare; But scorns on trifles to bestow her care.
Ladies there are who think one crime is all; Can women then no way but backward fall? So sweet is that one crime they don't pursue, To pay its loss, they think all others few. Who hold that crime so dear must never claim Of injur'd modesty the sacred name,
But Clio thus: What! railing withont end? "Mean task! how much more gen'rous to com “mend!"
Yes, to commend as you are wont to do,
My kind instructor and example too.
Daphnis," says Clio, " has a charming eye: What pity 'tis her shoulder is awry! "Aspasia's shape indeed — but then her air"The man has parts who finds destruction there. "Almeria's wit has something that's divine; “And wit's enough-how few in all thingsshine! **Selima
Selima serves her friends, relieves the poor"Who was it said Selima's near threescore? "At Lucia's match I from my soul rejoice, "The world congratulates so wise a choice; "His lordship's rent-roll is exceeding great: "But mortgages will sap the best estate. "In Shirley's form might cherubims appear,
"But then-she has a freckle on her car."
Without a but, Hortensia she commends,
The first of women, and the best of friends;
Owns her in person, wit, fame, virtue bright;
But how comes this to pass?-she died last night.
Thus nymphs commend, who yet at satire rail;
Indeed that's needless, if such praise prevail;
And whence such praise? our virulence is thrown
On others' fame, thro' fondness for our own.
Of rank and riches proud, Cleora frowns; For are not coronets akin to crowns? Her greedy eye, and her sublime address, The height of avarice and pride confess. You seek perfections worthy of her rank; Go, seek for her perfections at the bank. By wealth unquench'd, by reason uncontroll'd, For ever burns her sacred thirst of gold. As fond of fivepence as the vericst cit, And quite as much detested as a wit. Can gold calm passion, or make reason shine? Can we dig peace or wisdom from the mine? Wisdom to gold prefer, for 'tis much less To make our fortune than our happiness; That happiness which great ones often see, With rage and wonder, in a low degree, Themselves unblest: the poor are only poor; But what are they who droop amid their store? Nothing is meaner than a wretch of state, The happy only are the truly great. Peasants enjoy like appetites with kings, And those best satisfied with cheapest things. Could both our Indies buy but one new sense, Our envy would be due to large expence. Since not, those pomps which to the great belong Are but poor arts to mark them from the throng. See, how they beg an alms of flattery! They languish! oh support them with a lye! A decent competence we fully taste; It strikes our sense, and gives a constant feast: More, we perceive by dint of thought alone; The rich must labor to possess their own, To feel their great abundance; and request Their humble friends to help them to be blest; To see their treasures, hear their glory told, And aid the wretched impotence of gold. [divine, But some,great souls! and touch'd with warmth Give gold a price, and teach its beams to shine. All hoarded treasures they repute a load, Nor think their wealth their own, till well beGrand reservoirs of public happiness, [stow'd. Thro'secret streams diffusively they bless; [view, And while their bounties glide conceal'd from Relieve our wants, and spare our blushes too. Bat satire is my task, and these destroy Hier gloomy province and malignant joy.
Help me, ye misers! help me to complain,
And blast our common enemy, Germain:
But our invectives must despair success;
For next to praise, she values nothing less.
What picture's yonder, loosen'd from its
Or is 't Austuria, that affected dame? [frame?
The brightest forms, thro' affectation, fade
Tostrange new things, which nature never made;
Frown not ye fair! so much your sex we prize,
We hate those arts that take you from our eyes.
In Albucinda's native grace is seen
What you, who labor at perfection, mean.
Short is the rule, and to be learnt with ease;
Retain your gentle selves, and you must please.
Here might I sing of Memmia's mincing mien,
And all the movements of the soft machine
How two red lips affected zephyrs blow,
To cool the bohea, and inflame the beau;
While one white finger and a thumb conspire
To lift the cup and make the world admire.
Tea! how I tremble at thy fatal stream! As Lethe dreadful to the love of fame. What devastations on thy banks are seen! What shades of mighty names which once have A hetacomb of characters supplies Thy painted altar's daily sacrifice; H-, P-, B-, aspers'd by thee decay, As grains of finest sugars melt away, And recommend thee more to mortal taste: Scandal's the sweet'ner of a female feast.
But this inhuman triumph shall decline, And thy revolving Naiads call for wine; Spirits no longer shall serve under thee; But reign in thy own cup, exploded tea! Citrouia's nose declares thy ruin nigh; And who dares give Citronia's nose the lye *?
The ladies long at men of drink exclaim'd, And what impair'd both health and virtue blam'd. At length, to rescue man, the gen'rous lass Stole from her consort the pernicious glass. As glorious as the British queen renown'd, Who suck'd the poison fromherhusband's wound. Nor to the glass alone are nymphs inclin'd, But ev'ry bolder vice of bold mankind.
O Juvenal! for thy severer rage, To lash the ranker follies of our age! Are there among the females of our isle Such faults at which it is a fault to smile? There are. Vice, once by modest nature chain'd, And legal ties, expatiates unrestrain'd; Without thin decency held up to view, Naked she stalks o'er law and gospel too. Our matrons lead such exemplary lives, Men sigh in vain for none but for their wives; Who marry to be fre to range the more, And wed one man to wanton with a score. Abroad too kind, at home 'tis stedfast hate, And one eternal tempest of debate. What foul eruptions from a look most meek! What thunders bursting from a dimpled cheek! Their passions bear it with a lofty hand; But then their reason is at due command.
Is there whom you detest, and seek his life? "Let priests do something for their one in ten;
Trust no soul with the secret- but his wife. "It is their trade; so far they're honest men.
Wives wonder that their conduct I condemn, "Let them canton, since they havegot the knack,
And ask, what kindred is a spouse to them? "And dress their notions like themselvesinblack.
What swarns of am'rous grandmothers I see, "Fright us with terrors of a world unknown
And misses, antient in iniquity! [ing!" From joys of this, to keep them all their own.
What blasting whispers, and what loud declaim-"Of earth's fair fruits, indeed, they claim a fee;
Whatlying,drinking, bawding,swearing,gaming! "But then they leave our untith'd virtue free.
Friendship so cold, such warm incontinence,
Such griping av'rice, such profuse expence,
Such dead devotion, such a zeal for crimes,
Such licens'd ill, such masquerading times,
Such venal faith, such misapplied applause,
Such flatter'd guilt, and such inverted laws,
Such dissolution thro' the whole I find,
'Tis not a world, but chaos of mankind. [belle
Since Sundays have no balls, the well-dress'd
Shines in a pew, but smiles to hear of hell;
And casts an eye of sweet disdain on all
Who listen less to Cns than St. Paul.
Atheists have been but rare since nature's birth;
Till now she-atheists ne'er appear'd on earth;
Ye men of deep researches, say whence springs
This daring character in tim'rous things,
Who start at feathers, from an insect fly,
A match for nothing but the Deity?
But, not to wrong the fair, the Muse must In this pursuit they court not fame alone; But join to that a more substantial view → "From thinking free, to be free agents too." They strive with their own hearts, and keep them down
"Virtue's a pretty thing to make a show:
"Did ever mortal write like Rochefoucault?"
Thus pleads the Devil's fair apologist,
And pleading, safely enters on his list.
Let angel forms angelic truths maintain;
Nature disjoins the beauteous and profane.
For what's true beauty but fair virtue's face.
Virtue inade visible in outward grace?
She, then, that's haunted with an impious mind,
But charms decline; the fair long vigils keep; They sleep no more! Quadrille has murder'd sleep*.
Poor K-p! cries Livia; I have not been there
These two nights; thepoorcreature willdespair.
"I hate a crowd-but to do good, you know-
"And people of condition should bestow."
Convinc'd, o'ercome, to K-p's grave matron's
Now set a daughter, and now stake a son; [run,
Let health, fame, temper, beauty, fortene fly;
And beggar half their race through charity,
Immortal were we, or else mortal quite,
I less should blaine this criminal delight;
But since the gay assembly's gayest room
Is but an upper story to some tomb,
Methinks we need not our short beings shun,
And, thought to fly, content to be undone :
We need not buy our ruin with our crime,
And give eternity to murder time.
The love of gaming is the worst of ills;
With ceaseless storms the blacken'd soul it fills,
Inveighs at heaven, neglects the ties of blood,
Destroys the pow'r and will of doing good;
Kills health, pawns honor, plunges in disgrace,"
And, what is still more dreadful, spoils your face.
complaisance to all the fools in town.
Oh how they tremble at the name of prude!
And die with shame at thought of being good!
For what will Aṛtimis, the rich and gay,
What will the wits, that is, the coxcombs say?
They heaven defy, to earth's vile dregs a slave;
Thro' cowardice most execrably brave.
With our own judgements durst we to comply,
In virtue should we live, in glory die,
Rise then, my Muse, in honest fury rise!
They dread a Satire who defy the skies.
Atheists are few; most nymphs a god-head
And nothing but his attributes dethrone. [own,
From Atheists far, they stedfastly believe
God is, and is almighty-to forgive.
His other excellence they'll not dispute;
But mercy, sure, is his chief attribute.
Shall pleasures of a short duration chain
A lady's soul in everlasting pain?
Will the great Author us poor worms destroy,
For now, and then, a sip of transient joy?
No, he 's for ever in a smiling mood;
He's like themselves, or how could he be good?
And they blaspheme who blacker schemes sup-
Devoutly, thus, Jehovah they depose,
The pure! the just! and set up in his stead
A Deity that 's perfectly well-bred.
"Dear Tillotson!-be sure the best of men"Nor thought he more than thought great Ori"Tho' once upon a time he misbehav'd- [gen. "Poor Satan doubtless he'll at length be sav'd.
See yonder set of thieves that live on spoil,
The scandal and the ruin of our isle!
And see (strange sight!) amid that ruffian band,
A form divine high wave her snowy hand;
That rattles loud a small enchanted box,
Which loud as thunder on the board she knocks.
And as fierce storms, which earth's foundation
From Eolus's cave impetuous broke, [shook,
From this small cavern a mix'd tempest flies,
Fear, rage, convulsion, tears, oaths, blasphemies!
For men, I mean the fair discharges none;
She, guiltless creature! swears to Heaven alone.
See her eyes start, cheeks glow, and muscles
Like the mad maid in the Comean cell. [swell!
Thus that divine one her soft nights employs!
Thus tunes her soul to tender nuptial joys !
And when the cruel morning calls to bed,
And on her pillow lays her aching head,
With the dire images her dreams are crown'?,
The die spins lovely, or the cards go round:
Imaginary ruin charms her still;
Her happy lord is cuckold by Spadille;
And, if she 's brought to bed, 'tis ten to one,
He marks the forehead of her darling son.
'Midst empire's charms, how Carolina's heart
Glows with a love of virtue and of art!
Her favor is diffus'd to that degree,
Excess of goodness! it has dawn'd on me,
When in my page, to balance num'rous faults,
Or god-like deeds were shown, or gen'rous
Oh scene of horror, and of wild despair!
Why is the rich Artides' splendid heir
Constrain'd to quit his antient lordly seat,
And hide his glories in a mean retreat?
Why that drawn sword? and whence that dismal
Why pale distraction thro' the family?
See lord threatens and my lady weep,
And trembling servants from the tempest creep.
Why that gay son to distant regions sent?
What fiends that daughter's destin'd match pre-
Why the whole house in sudden ruin laid? [vent?
Oh nothing but last night my lady play'd.
But wanders not my Satire from her theme?
Is this too owing to the love of fame ?
Tho' now your hearts on lucre are bestow'd;
Twas first a vain devotion to the mode.
Nor cease we here, since 'tis a vice so strong,
The torrent sweeps all womankind along.
This may be said in honor of our times,
That none now stand distinguish'd by theircrimes."
If sin you must, take nature for your guide,
Love has some soft excuse to soothe your pride;
Ye fair apestates from love's antient pow'r!
Can nothing ravish but a golden show'r ?
Can cards alone your glowing fancy seise?
Must Cupid learn to punt, ere he can please?
When you're enamour'd of a list or cast,
What can the preacher more to make us chaste?
Can fame, like a repique, the soul entrance!
And what is virtue to the lucky chance?
Why must strong youths unmarried pine away?
They find no wonian disengag'd-from play.
Why pine the married? oh severer fate!
They find from play no disengag'd-estate.
Flavia, at lovers false untouch'd, and hard,
Turns pale and trembles at a cruel card.
Nor Arria's Bible can secure her age;
Ter threescore years are shuffling with her page:
Vhile death stands by but till the game is done,To
To sweep that stake in justice long his own;
Like old cards ting'd with sulphur she takes fire;
Or, like snuffs sunk in sockets, blazes higher.
e gods! with new delights inspire the fair;
Or give us sons, and save us from despair!
Sons, brothers, fathers, husbands, tradesmen,
my complaint, and brand your sins in prose: et I believe as firmly as my creed, n spite of all our wisdom, you'll proceed. ur pride so great, our passion is so strong, dvice to right confirms us in the wrong. hear you cry, "This fellow's very odd!" hen you chastise, who would not kiss the rod? it I've a charm your anger shall control, nd turn your eyes with coldness on the vole. The charm begins! To yonder flood of light Fat bursts o'er gloomy Britain, turn your sight. hat guardian pow'r o'erwhelms your soul with er deeds are precepts, her example law. [awe? + Lucan.
She smil'd, industrious to be pleas'd, nor knew
From whom my pen the borrow'd lustre drew.
Thus the majestic mother of mankind,
To her own charms most amiably blind,
On the green margin innocently stood,
And gaz'd indulgent on the crystal flood,
Survey'd the stranger in the painted wave,
And smiling prais'd the beauties which she gave.
In more than civil war, while patriots storm;
While genius is but cold their passion warm;
While public good aloft, in pomp they wield;
And private int'rest shulks behind the shield;
While Mist and Wilkins rise in weekly might,
Make presses groan, lead senators to fight;
Exalt our coffee with lampoons, and treat
The pamper'd mob with ministers of state:
While Até, hotfromhellmakesheroes shrink,
"Cries havoc, and lets loose the dogs of ink:"
Nor rank nor sex escapes the gen'ral frown,
But ladies are ripp'd up and cits knock'd down:
Tremendous force! where even the victor bleeds
And he deserves our pity that succeeds:
Immortal Juvenal! and thou of France!
In your fam'd field my Satire dares advance;
But cuts herself a track to you unknown;
Nor crops your laurel, but would raise her own:
A bold adventure! but a safe one too!
For though surpass'd, I am surpass'd by you. ́
To the Right Honorable Sir Robert Walpole. Carmina tum melius, cum venerit Ipse, canemus.
On this last labor, this my closing strain, Smile, Walpole, or the Niue inspire in vain.
thee 'tis due; that verse how justly thine, Where Brunswick's glory crowns the whole
That glory which thy counsels make so bright,
That glory which on thee reflects a light.
Illustrious commerce, and but rarely known!
To give and take a lustre from the throne.
Nor think that thou art foreign to my theme;
The fountain is not foreign to the stream.
How all mankind will be surpris'd to see
This flood of British folly charg'd on thee!
Yet, Britain, whence this caprice of thy sons,
Which thro' their various ranks with fury runs ?
The cause is plain, a cause which we must bless;
For caprice is the daughter of success,
(A bad effect, but from a pleasing cause)
And gives our rulers undesign'd applause;
Tells how their conduct bids our wealth increase,
And lulls us in the downy lap of peace.
While I survey the blessings of our isle,
Her arts triumphant in the Royal smile,