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Written in the year 1730.
Ueen of wit and beauty, Betty!
Never may the muse forget ye:
How thy face charms ev'ry shepherd,
Spotted over like a leopard ;
And, thy freckled neck displaid,
Envy breeds in ev'ry maid,
Like a fly blown cake of tallow,
Or on parchment ink turn'd yellow,
Or a tawny speckled pippin
Shrivel'd with a winter's keeping.
And, thy beauty thus dispatch'd,
Let me praise thy wit unmatch'd.
Sets of phrases, cut and dry,
Evermore thy tongue fupply.
And thy memory is loaded
With old scraps from plays exploded :
Stock'd with repartees and jokes,
Suited to all Christian folks ;
Shreds of wit, and fenfeless rhymes,
Blunder'd out a thousand times.
Nor wilt thou of gifts be sparing,
Which can ne'er be worse for wearing,
Picking wit among collegions,
In the playhouse upper regions ;
Where, in eighteen-penny gallry,
Irish nymphs learn Irish raill'ry :
But thy merit is thy failing,
And thy raillery is railing.
Thus with talents well endu'd
To be scurrilous and rude ;
When you partly raise your fnout,
Fleer, and gibe, and laugh, and thout :
This among Hibernian asses
For sheer wit and humour passes.
Thus indulgent Chloe bit,
35 Swears you have a world of wit.
To an agreeable young Lady, but extremely lean.
Written in the year 1730.
DEath went upon a folemn day
At Pluto's hall his court to pay :
The phantom, having humbly kist
His grisly monarch's footy fift,
Presented him the weekly bills
Of doctors, fevers, plagues, and pills.
Pluto observing fince the peace,
The burial-article decrease ;
And vex'd to see affairs miscarry,
Declar'd in council, Death must marry:
Vow'd he no longer could support
Old bachelors about his court:
The int'reft of his realm had need
That Death should get a num'rous breed;
Young.deathlings, who, by practice made
Proficient in their father's trade,
With colonies might flock around
His large dominions under ground.
A consult of coquets below
Was call’d to rig him out a beau :
From her own head Megara takes
A periwig of twisted snakes;
+ See an anecdote relating to this lady, above, p. 4.
Which in the nicest fashion curl'd.
(Like toupets * of this apper world),
With flow'r of sulphur powder'd well,
That graceful on her fhoulders fell,
An adder of the sable kind,
In line direct, hang down behind.
The owl, the raven, and the bat,
Clubb'd for a feather to his hat;
His coat, an us’rer's velvet pall,
Bequeath'd to Pluto, corpse and all.
But loath his person to expose
Bare, like a carcase pick'd by crows,
A lawyer o'er his hands and face
35 Stuck artfully a parchment case. No new flux'd rake shew'd fairer skin; Nor Phillis after lying in. With snuff was filld his ebon box, Of thin-bones rotted by the pox. Nine fpirits of blaspheming fops With 'aconite anoint his chops : And give him words of dreadful founds, G-dd-n his blood, and bad and Wads. Thus furnish'd out, he sent his train
45 To take a house in Warwick-lane : The faculty, his humble friends, A complimental message sends : Their president in scarlet gown Harangu'd, and welcom'd him to town.
50 But Death had bus'ness to dispatch ; His mind was running on his match. And, hearing much of Daphne's fame, His Majesty of terrors came, Fine as a col'nel of the guards,
55 To visit where she sat at cards.
* The periwigs now in fashion are fo called.
She, as he came into the room,
Thought him Adonis in his bloom.
And now her heart with pleasure jumps ;
She scarce remembers what is trumps ;
For such a shape of skin and bone
Was never seen except her own :
Charm’d with his eyes, and chin, and fnout,
Her pocket-glass drew Nily out;
And grew enamour'd with her phiz,
As just the counter part of his.
She darted many a private glance,
And freely made the first advance ;
Was of her beauty grown fo vain,
She doubted not to win the swain;
Nothing, she thought, could fooner gain him,
Than with her wit to entertain him.
She ask'd about her friends below ;
This meagre fop, that batter'd beau :
Whether some late departed toasts
Had got gallants among the ghosts?
If Chloe were a sharper still
As great as ever at quadrille ?
(The ladies there must needs be rooks,
For cards, we know, are Pluto's books);
If Florimel had found her love,
For whom the hang'd herself above?
How oft a week was kept a ball
By Proserpine at Plato's hall ?
She fancied those Elyfian fhades
The sweetest place for masquerades :
How pleasant on the banks of Styx,
To troll it in a coach and fix!
What pride a female heart inflames !
How endless are ambition's aims !
Cease, haughty nymph ; the fates decree
Death must not be a spouse for thee :
Zur hand as dry and cold as lead,
He fel about his heart a damp,
Thar qure extingui.hd Cupid's lamp:
Away the frighted spectre scuds,
And leaves my lady in the fuds. 368
Which in the
Or S T'E PHIN
, eagle shade
Upon the hand his anger laid,
His matrimonial spirit filed
STEPHEN Duck, the THRESHER, and favourite Poet.
Written in the year 1730.
THE threfher Duck could o'er the Queen prevail
, The proverb says, No fence against a fail. From threshing corn he turns to thresh his brains ; For which her Majesty allows him grains. Tho''tis confess'd, that those who ever saw 5 His poems,
think them all not worth a Araw ! Thrice happy Duck, employd in threshing Aubble ! Thy toil is lessen'd, and thy profits double.
A PANEGYRIC on the DEAN, in the
person of a LADY' in the north f.
Written in the year 1930.
REfolvd my gratitude to show,
Thrice Rev'rend Dean, for all. I owe,
Too long I have my thanks delay'd;
Your favours left too long unpaid;
But now, in all our fex's name,
My artless muse shall fing your fame.
† The Lady of Sir Arthur Acheson.