Gaming succeeds; if Fortune crosses,
Then virtue's mortgag'd for her losses;
By use her fav'rite vice she loathes;
And loves new follies like new clothes;
But you, beyond all thought unchaste,
Have all sin center'd near your waist!
Whence is this appetite so strong?
Say, Madam, did your mother long?
Or is it lux'ry and high diet

That won't let Virtue sleep in quiet?
She tells him now with meekest voice,
That she had never err'd by choice,
Nor was there known a virgin chaster,
Till ruin'd by a sad disaster.

'That she a fav'rite lapdog had,

Which (as she strok'd and kiss'd) grew mad;
And on her lip a wound indenting,

First set her youthful blood fermenting.

The priest reply'd, with zealous fury,

You should have sought the means to cure ye.
Doctors by various ways, we find,

Treat these distempers of the mind.

Let gaudy ribbands be deny'd
To her who raves with scornful pride;
And if religion crack her notions,
Lock up her volumes of devotions;
But if for man her rage prevail,
Bar her the sight of creatures male.

Or else to curse such venom❜d bites,
And set the shatter'd thoughts arights,
They send you to the ocean's shore,
And plunge the patient o'er and o'er.
The dame reply'd, Alas! in vain
My kindred forc'd me to the main,
Naked, and in the face of day;
Look not, ye Fishermen! this way:
What virgin had not done as I did?
My modest hand by Nature guided,
Debarr'd at once from human eyes,
The seat where female honour lies,
And tho' thrice dipt from top to toe,
I still secur'd the post below,
And guarded it with grasp so fast,
Not one drop thro' my fingers past;
Thus owe I to my bashful care,
That all the rage is settled there.

Weigh well the projects of mankind,
Then tell me, Reader! canst thou find
The man from madness wholly free?
They all are mad---save you and me.
Do not the statesman, fop, and wit,
By daily follies prove they 're bit,
And when the briny cure they try'd,
Some part still kept above the tide ?

Some men (when drench'd beneath the wave)
High o'er their heads their fingers save:

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Those hands by mean extortion thrive,
Or in the pocket lightly dive;
Or more expert in pilf'ring vice,

They burn and itch to cog the dice.

Plunge in a courtier, straight his fears
Direct his hands to stop his ears.

And now truth seems a gating noise,
He loves the sland'rer's whisp❜ring voice;
He hangs on flatt'ry with delight,
And thinks all fulsome praise is right.
All women dread a wat'ry death;

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They shut their lips to hold their breath,

140

And tho' your duck them ne'er so long,

Occasioned by the Death of the Duke Regent of France.

How vain are mortal man's endeavours?
(Said at Dame Elleot's* Master Tr---)
Good Orleans dead! in truth 'tis hard:

Oh! may all statesmen die prepar'd!
I do foresee (and for foreseeing

He equals any man in being)

* Coffee-house near St. James's.

Volume II.

G

The army ne'er can be disbanded.
----I wish the King were safely landed.
Ah! Friends! great changes threat the land;
All France and England at a stand!

There's Meroweis---mark! strange work!
And there's the Czar, and there's the Turk---
The Pope---An India merchant by

Cut short the speech with this reply:
All at a stand! You see great changes;
Ah! Sir, you never saw the Ganges:
There dwell the nations of Quidnunkies,
(So Monomotapa calls monkies)
On either bank, from bough to bough,
They meet and chat (as we may now)
Whispers go round; they grin, they shrug,
The bow, they snarl, they scratch, they hug;
And just as chance or whim provoke them,
They either bite their friends or stroke them.
There have I seen some active prig,

To shew his parts, bestride a twig.
L---d, how the chatt'ring tribe admire!
Not that he's wiser, but he's higher:
All long to try the vent'rous thing,
(For pow'r is but to have one's swing)
From side to side he springs, he spurns,
And bangs his foes and friends by turns.
Thus as in giddy freaks he bounces,
Crack goes the twig, and in he flounces!

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Down the swift stream the wretch is borne,
Never, ah! never to return!

Z---ds! what a fall had our dear brother?

Morbleu! cries one, and Damme! th' other;
The nations give a gen'ral screech,

Ncne cocks his tail, none claws his breech;
Each trembles for the public weal,
And for a while forgets to steal.

Awhile all eyes, intent and steady,
Pursue him whirling down the eddy;
But out of mind when out of view,
Some other mounts the twig anew;
And business on each monkey shore
Runs the same track it went before.

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