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Up to her godly garret after seven,
LOVET. There starve and pray, for that's the way to heaven. Tell, tell your griefs ; attentive will I stay,
Some squire, perhaps, you take delight to rack; | Though time is precious, and I want some tea. Whose game is whist, whose treat a toast in sack; Who visits with a gun, presents you birds,
CARDELIA. Then gives a smacking buss, and cries, No words! Behold this equipage, by Mathers wrought, Or with his hound comes hallooing from the stable; With fifty guineas (a great pen'orth) bought. Makes love with nods, and knees beneath a table; See on the tooth-pick, Mars and Cupid strive ; Whose laughs are hearty, tho' his jests are coarse, And both the struggling figures seem alive. And loves you best of all things--but his horse. Upon the bottom shines the queen's bright face;
In some fair evening, on your elbow laid, A myrtle foliage round the thimble-case,
This snuff-box;-once the pledge of SHARPER'S While the spread fan o'ershades your closing eyes;
When rival beauties for the present strove ; Then give one flirt, and all the vision flies. Thus vanish sceptres, coronets, and balls,
At Corticelli's he the raffle won ; And leave you in lone woods, or empty walls !
Then first his passion was in public shown :
Hazardia blush'd, and turn'd her head aside, So when your slave, at some dear idle time, (Not plagued with head-aches, or the wantof rhyme)
A rivals envy (all in vain) to hide. Stands in the streets, abstracted from the crew,
This snuff-box-on the hinge see brilliants shine : And while he seems to study, thinks of you ;
This snuff-box will I stake; the prize is mine. Just when his fancy points your sprightly eyes,
CARDELIA. Or sees the blush of soft Parthenia rise,
Alas ! far lesser losses than I bear, GAY pats my shoulder, and you vanish quite,
Have made a soldier sigh, a lover swear. Streets, chairs, and coxcombs rush upon my sight;
And oh! what makes the disappointment hard, Vex'd to be still in town, I knit my brow,
'Twas my own lord that drew the fatal card. Look sour, and hum a tune, as you may now. In complaisance, I took the queen he gave ;
Though my own secret wish was for the knave.
The knave won Sonica, which I had chose ;
And the next pull, my Septleva I lose.
But ah ! what aggravates the killing smart,
The cruel thought, that stabs me to the heart; CARDELIA. The basset-table spread, the tallier come ;
This cursed OMBRELIA, this undoing fair, Why stays Smilinda in the dressing-room?
By whose vile arts this heavy grief I bear; Rise, pensive nymph, the tallier waits for you !
She, at whose name I shed these spiteful tears,
She owes to me the very charms she wears. SMILINDA.
An awkward thing, when first she came to town ; Ah, madam, since my SHARPER is untrue, Her shape unfashion'd, and her face unknown : I joyless make my once adored Alpeu.
She was my friend; I taught her first to spread I saw him stand behind OMBRELIA's chair,
Upon her sallow cheeks enlivening red: And whisper with that soft, deluding air,
I introduced her to the park and plays; And those feign'd sighs which cheat the listening fair. And by my interests, Cozens made her stays. CARDELIA.
Ungrateful wretch, with mimic airs grown pert, Is this the cause of your romantic strains ? She dares to steal my fav’rite lover's heart. A mightier grief my heavy heart sustains. As you by love, so I by fortune cross'd ;
CARDELIA. One, one bad deal, three Septlevas have lost.
Wretch that I was, how often have I swore,
When Winnall tallied, I would punt no more?
I knew the bite, yet to my ruin run ;
How many maids have SHARPER'S vows deceived ? CARDELIA.
How many cursed the moment they believed !
Yet his known falsehoods could no warning prove: A lover lost, is but a common care : And prudent nymphs against that change prepare:
Ah! what is warning to a maid in love ? The KNAVEOF Clubs thrice lost! Oh! who could guess
CARDELIA. This fatal stroke, this unforeseen distress?
But of what marble must that breast be form'd, SMILINDA.
To gaze on Basset, and remain unwarm'd ? See BETTY LOVET! very à-propos,
When kings,queens, knaves, are set in decent rank; She all the cares of love and play does know : Exposed in glorious heaps the tempting bank, Dear BETTY shall the important point decide ; Guineas, half-guineas, all the shining train ; BETTY, who oft the pain of each has tried ; The winner's pleasure, and the loser's pain : Impartial, she shall say who suffers most,
In bright confusion open rouleaus lie, By cards' ill usage, or by lovers lost.
| They strike the soul, and glitter in the eye.
Fired by the sight, all reason I disdain ;
OCCASIONED BY SOME VERSES OF HIS My passions rise, and will not bear the rein.
GRACE THE DUKE OF BUCKINGHAM. Look upon Basset, you who reason boast, And see if reason must not there be lost.
Muse, 'tis enough: at length thy labour ends, SMILINDA.
And thou shalt live, for BUCKINGHAM commends. What more than marblemust that heart compose, Let crowds of critics now my verse assail, Can hearken coldly to my SHARPER'S vows? Let Dennis write, and nameless numbers rail : Then, when he trembles ! when his blushes rise! This more than pays whole years of thankless pain, When awful love seems melting in his eyes!
Time, health, and fortune, are not lost in vain. With eager beats his Mechlin cravat moves : SHEFFIELD approves, consenting Phoebus bends, He loves, I whisper to myself, He loves !
And I and Malice from this hour are friends. Such unfeign'd passion in his looks appears, I lose all memory of my former fears; My panting heart confesses all his charms, I yield at once, and sink into his arms:
A PROLOGUE Think of that moment, you who prudence boast;
| TO A PLAY FOR MR. DENNIS'S BENEFIT IN 1733, WHEN HE For such a moment, prudence well were lost.
WAS OLD, BLIND, AND IN GREAT DISTRESS, A LITTLE CARDELIA.
BEFORE HIS DEATH, At the Groom- Porter's, batter'd bullies play, Some DUKES at Mary-bone bowl time away. As when that hero, who in each campaign, But who the bowl or rattling dice compares Had braved the Goth, and many a Vandal slain, To Basset's heavenly joys and pleasing cares ? Lay fortune-struck, a spectacle of woe! SMILINDA.
Wept by each friend, forgiven by every foe; Soft SIMPLICETTA doats upon a beau;
Was there a generous, a reflecting mind, PRUDINA likes a man, and laughs at show.
But pitied BELISARIUS old and blind ? Their several graces in my SHARPER meet;
Was there a chief but melted at the sight? Strong as the footman, as the master sweet.
A common soldier, but who clubb'd his mite?
Such, such emotions should in Britons rise,
When press'd by want and weakness Dennis lies; Cease your contention, which has been too long;
Dennis, who long had warr'd with modern Huns, I grow impatient, and the tea's too strong.
Their quibbles routed, and defied their puns; Attend, and yield to what I now decide;
A desperate bulwark, sturdy, firm and fierce, The equipage shall grace SMILINDA's side ;
Against the Gothic sons of frozen verse: The snuff-box to CARDELIA I decree,
How changed from him who made the boxes groan, Now leave complaining, and begin your tea.
And shook the stage with thunders all his own!
Maul the French tyrant, or pull down the Pope!
If there's a Briton then, true bred and born,
Who holds dragoons and wooden shoes in scorn; Un jour dit un auteur, etc.
If there's a critic of distinguish'd rage ; Once (says an author, where I need not say)
If there's a senior, who contemns this age; Two travellers found an oyster in their way';
Let him to-night his just assistance lend,
And be the critic's, Briton's, old man's friend.
First sought a poet's fortune in the town, 'Twas a fat oyster-Live in peace-Adieu. 'Twas all the ambition his high soul could feel,
To wear red stockings, and to dine with Steele.
Some ends of verse his betters might afford, ANSWER TO THE FOLLOWING QUESTION
And gave the harmless fellow a good word.
Set up with these, he ventured on the town,
And with a borrow'd play, outdid poor Crown.
There he stopp'd short, nor since has writ a tittle, What is PRUDERY?
But has the wit to make the most of little: 'Tis a beldam,
Like stunted hide-bound trees, that just have got Seen with wit and beauty seldom.
Sufficient sap at once to bear and rot. 'Tis a fear that starts at shadows;
Now he begs verse, and what he gets commends, 'Tis (no, 'tisn't) like Miss Meadows.
Not of the wits his foes, but fools his friends. 'Tis a virgin hard of feature,
So some coarse country wench, almost decay'd, Old, and void of all good-nature;
Trudges to town, and first turns chambermaid ; Lean and fretful, would seem wise;
Awkward and supple, each devoir to pay; Yet plays the fool before she dies.
She flatters her good lady twice a day; 'Tis an ugly envious shrew,
Thought wondrous honest, though of mean degree, That rails at dear Lepell and you.
And strangely liked for her simplicity:
In a translated suit, then tries the town,
Mild Arcadians, ever blooming,
Nightly nodding o'er your flocks, See my weary days consuming,
All beneath yon flowery rocks.
TO MR. JOHN MOORE,
Thus the Cyprian goddess weeping,
Mourn'd Adonis, darling youth : Him the boar, in silence creeping, Gored with unrelenting tooth.
iv. Cynthia, tune harmonious numbers ;
Fair Discretion, string the lyre ; Soothe my ever-waking slumbers ;
Bright Apollo, lend thy choir.
AUTHOR OF THE CELEBRATED WORM-POWDER.
Gloomy Pluto, king of terrors,
Arm'd in adamantine chains,
Gilding my Aurelia's brows, Morpheus hovering o'er my pillow,
Hear me pay my dying vows.
How much, egregious Moore, are we
Deceived by shows and forms! Whate'er we think, whate'er we see,
All humankind are worms.
Vile, reptile, weak, and vain !
Then shrinks to earth again.
E'er since our grandame's evil ;
That ancient worm, the devil.
The blockhead is a slow-worm ;
Is aptly term’d a glow-worm.
That flutter for a day;
And in a worm decay.
Thus worms suit all conditions ;
And death-watches physicians.
By all their winding play ;
That gnaws them night and day.
And greater gain would rise,
The worm that never dies !
Who sett'st our entrails free!
Since worms shall eat even thee.
Some few short years, no more!
Who maggots were before.
Melancholy smooth Meander,
Swiftly purling in a round, On thy margin lovers wander, With thy flowery chaplets crown'd.
vrt. Thus when Philomela, drooping,
Softly seeks her silent mate, See the bird of Juno stooping;
Melody resigns to fate.
ON A CERTAIN LADY AT COURT.
I know the thing that's most uncommon;
(Envy be silent, and attend !) I know a reasonable woman,
Handsome and witty, yet a friend.
Not grave through pride, or gay through folly, An equal mixture of good humour
And sensible soft melancholy.
Yes, she has one, I must aver;
The woman's deaf, and does not hear.
Approach. Great NATCRE studiously behold! | And Ireland, mother of sweet singers,
Presents her harp still to his fingers.
Where British sighs from dying WYNDHAM stole, | The mushrooms show his wit was sudden ! i And the bright flame was shot through MARCH And for his judgment, lo a pudden! MONT's soul.
Roast beef, though old, proclaims him stout,
And grace, although a bard, devout.
The price of prologues and of plays,
Digest his thirty-thousandth dinner;
Walk to his grave without reproach,
And scorn a rascal in a coach. WHO CONGRATULATED HIM ON FINISHING HIS HOUSE
ROXANA, OR THE DRAWING-ROOM.
Ah, friend ! 'tis true—this truth you lovers know-
And only dwells where WORTLEY casts her eyes.
The morning bower, the evening colonnade,
He, stretch'd unseen in coverts hid from day, : Bleeds drop by drop, and pants his life away.
TO MRS. M. B.
ON HER BIRTH-DAY,
Ou be thou blest with all that Heaven can send,
Let joy or ease, let affluence or content,
Roxana from the court returning late,
Was it for this, that I these roses wear?
1 This Eclogue is by some attributed to Lady Mary Wortley Montagu.
TO MR. THOMAS SOUTHERN,
ON HIS BIRTH-DAY, 1742.
Resigx'D to live, prepared to die,
Ah worthy choice; not one of all your train,
Grandeur intoxicates her giddy brain,
TO LADY MARY WORTLEY MONTAGU.
In beauty, or wit,
No mortal as yet
But men of discerning
Have thought that in learning, To yield to a lady was hard.
11. Impertinent schools,
With musty dull rules, Have reading to females denied ;
So papists refuse
The Bible to use,
A FAREWELL TO LONDON.
IN THE YEAR 1715.
Thy fools no more I'll tease:
Ye harlots, sleep at ease!
'Twas a woman at first
(Indeed she was curst) In knowledge that tasted delight,
And sages agree
The laws should decree
Resume the old claim,
And let men receive,
From a second bright Eve, The knowledge of right and of wrong.
v. But if the first Eve
Hard doom did receive, When only one apple had she,
What a punishment new
Shall be found out for you,
To drink and droll be Rowe allow'd
Till the third watchman's toll;
Save three-pence and his soul.
On every learned sot;
Although he knows it not.
Farewell, unhappy Tonson!
Lean Philips, and fat Johnson.
My vixen mistress squalls;
And Homer (damn him !) calls.
In Halifax's urn;
Has yet the grace to mourn.
Betray, and are betray'd :
And B- ll is a jade.
When I no favour seek?
(From Dallaway's Life of Lady Mary.]
The playful smiles around the dimpled mouth,
Still idle, with a busy air, That happy air of majesty and truth;
Deep whimsies to contrive; So would I draw (but oh ! 'tis vain to try,
The gayest valetudinaire,
Most thinking rake alive.
Solicitous for other ends,
Though fond of dear repose ;
Careless or drowsy with my friends,
And frolic with my foes.
For sober, studious days!
And Burlington's delicious meal,
For salads, tarts, and pease!
Adieu to all but Gay alone,
Whose soul, sincere and free, WITH scornful mien, and various toss of air, Loves all mankind, but flatters none, Fantastic, vain, and insolently fair,
And so may starve with me.