EPISTLE

To the fame,

On her leaving the Town after the CORONATION *.

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S fome fond Virgin, whom her mother's care
Drags from the Town to wholesome Country air,

Juft when she learns to roll a melting eye,
And hear a spark, yet think no danger nigh;
From the dear man unwilling the must fever,

Yet takes one kifs before she parts for ever:
Thus from the world fair Zephalinda flew,
Saw others happy, and with fighs withdrew;
Not that their pleafures caus'd her difcontent,
She figh'd not that they ftay'd, but that she went.
She went to plain-work, and to purling brooks,
Old-fashion'd halls, dull Aunts, and croaking rooks:
She went from Op'ra, Park, Affembly, Play,
To morning-walks, and pray'rs three hours a day;
To part her time 'twixt reading and Bohea,
To mufe, and spill her folitary tea,

Or o'er cold coffee trifle with the spoon,

Count the flow Clock, and dine exact at noon;
Divert her eyes with pictures in the fire,
Hum half a tune, tell ftories to the 'Squire ;
Up to her godly garret after seven,

There starve and pray, for that's the way to heav'n.
Some 'Squire, perhaps, you take delight to rack;
Whose game is Whift, whofe treat a toaft in fack;
Who vifits with a gun, prefents you birds,
Then gives a fmacking bufs, and cries,-No words!
Or with his hound comes hallooing from the stable,
Makes love with nods, and knees beneath a table;

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Whose

Whose laughs are hearty, tho' his jests are coarse,
And loves you beft of all things-but his horfe.

In fome fair evening, on your elbow laid,
You dream of Triumphs in the rural shade;
In penfive thought recall the fancy'd scene,
See Coronations rife on ev'ry green;
Before you pass th' imaginary fights

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Of Lords, and Earls, and Dukes, and garter'd Knights,
While the spread fan o'ershades your clofing eyes;
Then give one flirt, and all the vifion flies.

Thus vanish fceptres, coronets, and balls,
And leave you in lone woods, or empty walls!
So when your Slave, at fome dear idle time,

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(Not plagu'd with head-aches, or the want of rhyme)" Stands in the ftreets, abftracted from the crew,

And while he seems to ftudy, thinks of you;

Juft when his fancy points your sprightly eyes,

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Or fees the blush of soft Parthenia rise,

Gay pats my shoulder, and you vanish quite,e
Streets, Chairs, and Coxcombs rush upon my fight;
Vex'd to be ftill in town, I knit my brow,
Look four, and hum a Tune, as you may now

THE

THE Baffet-Table fpread, the Tallier come;

Why ftays SMILINDA in the Dreffing-Room? Rife, penfive Nymph, the Tallier waits for you:

SMILIND A...

Ah, Madam, fince my SHARPER is untrue,
I joyless make my once ador'd Alpeu.

I faw him ftand behind OMBRELIA's Chair,
And whisper with that foft, deluding air,

And those feign'd fighs which cheat the lift'ning Fair.

CARDEL I A.

Is this the caufe of your romantic ftrains?
A mightier grief my heavy heart fuftains.
As You by Love, fo I by Fortune cross'd;
One, one bad Deal, Three Septlevas have loft,

SMILIND A.

Is that the grief which you compare with mine? With ease, the fmiles of Fortune 1 refign:

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* Only this of all the Town Eclogues was Mr. Pope's; and is here printed from a copy corrected by his own hand.---The humour of it lies in this, that the one is in love with the Game, and the other with the Sharper.

Would all my gold in one bad Deal were gone;
Were lovely SHARPER mine, and mine alone.

CARDELIA.

A Lover loft, is but a common care;

And prudent Nymphs against that change prepare:

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The KNAVE OF CLUBS thrice loft: Oh! who could

guess

This fatal ftroke, this unforeseen Distress?

SMILIND A.

See BETTY LOVET! very à propos,

She all the cares of Love and Play does know :
Dear BETTY fhall th' important point decide;
BETTY, who oft the pain of each has try'd;
Impartial, she shall fay who fuffers moft,
By Cards, Ill-Ufage, or by Lovers loft.

LOVET.

Tell, tell your griefs; attentive will I stay, Tho' time is precious, and I want fome Tea.

CARDELIA.

Behold this Equipage, by Mathers wrought,
With Fifty Guineas (a great Pen'worth) bought.
See, on the Tooth-pick, Mars and Cupid ftrive;
And both the struggling figures feem alive.
Upon the bottom shines the Queen's bright Face;
A Myrtle Foliage round the Thimble-Cafe;
Jove, Jove himself does on the Sciffors fhine;
The Metal, and the Workmanship, divine!

SMILIND A.

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This Snuff-box,-once the pledge of SHARPER's love, When rival beauties for the Prefent ftrove;

At Corticelli's he the Raffle won;

Then firft his Paffion was in public shown.:

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HAZARDIA

HAZARDIA blush'd, and turn'd her head afide,
A Rival's envy (all in vain) to hide.

This Snuff-box-on the Hinge fee Brilliants fhine:
This Snuff-box will I ftake; the Prize is mine.

CARDELIA.

Alas! far leffer loffes than I bear,

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Have made a Soldier figh, a Lover fwear.

And oh! what makes the disappointment hard,
'Twas my own Lord that drew the fatal Card.
In Complaifance, I took the Queen he gave;
Tho' my own fecret wifh was for the Knave.
The Knave won Sonica, which I had chofe ;
And the next Pull, my Septleva I lose.

SMILIND A.

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But ah! what aggravates the killing smart, The cruel thought, that stabs me to the heart; This curs'd OMBRELIA, this undoing Fair,

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By whose vile arts this heavy grief I bear;

She, at whofe name I fhed thefe fpiteful tears,
She owes to me the very charms fhe wears.

An aukward Thing, when firft fhe came to Town;

Her fhape unfashion'd, and her Face unknown:

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She was my friend; I taught her first to spread
Upon her fallow cheeks enliv'ning red:

I introduc'd her to the Park and Plays;
And by my int'reft, Cozens made her Stays.
Ungrateful wretch, with mimic airs grown pert,
She dares to steal my Fav'rite Lover's heart.

CARDELIA.

Wretch that I was, how often have I fwore,
When WINNALL tally'd, I would punt no more?
I know the Bite, yet to my Ruin run;
And see the Folly, which I cannot fhun.

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SMILINDA.