VERBATIM FROM BOILEAU.

UN JOUR DIT UN AUTEUR, &c.

NCE (fays an Author, where I need not say)

ONCE

Two Travellers found an Oyster in their way;
Both fierce, both hungry; the difpute grew ftrong,
While Scale in hand Dame Justice paft along.

Before her each with clamour pleads the Laws,
Explain'd the matter, and would win the cause.
Dame Justice weighing long the doubtful Right,
Takes, opens, fwallows it, before their fight.
The cause of ftrife remov'd fo rarely well,
There take (says Justice) take you each a Shell.
We thrive at Westminster on Fools like you:
'Twas a fat Oyster-Live in peace-Adieu.

ANSWER to the following Question of Mrs. HowE.

HAT IS PRUDERY?

WHAT

Seen with Wit and Beauty seldom.

'Tis a fear that starts at fhadows.

'Tis a Beldam,

'Tis (no, 'tis'nt) like Mifs Meadows.
"Tis a Virgin hard of Feature,
Old, and void of all good-nature;
Lean and fretful; would feem wife;
Yet plays the fool before the dies,
'Tis an ugly envious Shrew,
That rails at dear Lepell and You.

Occafioned

Occafioned by fome Verses of his Grace the Duke of BUCKINGHAM.

MUSE,

USE, 'tis enough: at length thy labour ends,

And thou shalt live, for Buckingham commends. Let Crowds of Critics now my verse assail, Let Dennis write, and nameless numbers rail: This more than pays whole years of thankless pain, Time, health, and fortune, are not loft in vain. Sheffield approves, confenting Phoebus bends, And I and Malice from this hour are friends.

A PROLOGUE

BY MR. POPE,

To a Play for Mr. DENNIS's Benefit, in 1733, when he was old, blind, and in great Diftrefs, a little before his Death.

As when that Hero, who in each Campaign,

Had brav'd the Goth, and many a Vandal slain,

Lay Fortune struck, a spectacle of Woe!
Wept by each Friend, forgiv'n by every Foe:
Was there a generous, a reflecting mind,

5

But pitied Belifarius old and blind?

Was there a Chief but melted at the Sight?

A common Soldier, but who clubb'd his Mite?

Such

Such, fuch emotions should in Britons rise,
When prefs'd by want and weakness Dennis lies;
Dennis, who long had warr'd with modern Huns,
Their Quibbles routed, and defy'd their Puns ;
A defperate Bulwark, sturdy, firm, and fierce
Against the Gothic Sons of frozen verse :

10

How chang'd from him who made the boxes groan, 15
And hook the stage with Thunders all his own!
Stood up to dash each vain Pretender's hope,
Maul the French Tyrant, or pull down the Pope!
If there's a Briton then, true bred and born,
Who holds Dragoons and wooden fhoes in fcorn;
If there's a Critic of distinguish'd rage;

If there's a Senior, who contemns this age;
Let him to-night his just affiftance lend,

And be the Critic's, Briton's, Old Man's Friend.

20

MACE R:

A CHARACT E R.

HEN fimple Macer, now of high renown,

WHE

First sought a Poet's Fortune in the Town,
'Twas all th' Ambition his high foul could feel,
To wear red stockings, and to dine with Steel.
Some Ends of verse his Betters might afford;
And gave the harmless fellow a good word.
Set up with thefe, he ventur'd on the Town,
And with a borrow'd Play out-did poor Crown.

There

There he stopp'd fhort, nor fince has writ a tittle,
But has the Wit to make the most of little :
Like stunted hide-bound Trees, that just have got
Sufficient fap at once to bear and rot.

ΤΟ

Now he begs Verfe, and what he gets commends,
Not of the Wits his foes, but Fools his friends.
So fome coarse Country Wench, almost decay'd, 15
Trudges to town, and first turns Chambermaid;
Awkward and fupple, each devoir to pay;
She flatters her good Lady twice a-day;

Thought wondrous honest, though of mean degree,
And ftrangely lik'd for her Simplicity:

In a tranflated Suit, then tries the Town,
With borrow'd Pins, and Patches not her own:
But just endur'd the Winter she began,

And in four Months a batter'd Harridan.

20

Now nothing left, but wither'd, pale, and fhrunk, 25 To bawd for others, and go fhares with Punk.

Το

To Mr. JOHN MOORE,

AUTHOR of the celebrated WORM-POWDER.

H

OW much, egregious Moore, are we
Deceiv'd' by fhews and forms!

Whate'er we think, whate'er we fee,

All Humankind are Worms.

Man is a very Worm by birth,
Vile, reptile, weak, and vain!
A while he crawls upon the earth,
Then shrinks to earth again.

That Woman is a Worm, we find
E'er fince our Grandame's evil;
She first convers'd with her own kind,
That ancient Worm, the Devil.

The learn'd themselves we Book-worms name,
The Blockhead is a Slow-worm;
The Nymph whose tail is all on flame,
Is aptly term'd a Glow-worm :

The Fops are painted Butterflies,
That flutter for a day;

First from a Worm they take their rise,

And in a Worm decay.

The Flatterer an Earwig grows;

Thus Worms fuit all conditions ;

Mifers are Muck-worms, Silk-worms Beaus,

And Death-watches Physicians.

That