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WHEN simple Macer, now of high renown,
First sought a poet's fortune in the town;
'Twas all th' ambition his great soul could feel,
To wear red stockings, and to dine with Steele.
Some ends of verse his betters might afford,
And gave the harmless fellow a good word.

with these, he ventur'd on the town,
And in a borrow'd play outdid poor Crown.
There he stopt short, nor since has writ a tittle,
But has the wit to make the most of little ;
Like stunted hidebound trees, that just have got
Sufficient sap at once to bear and rot.
Now he begs verse, and what he gets commends *,
Not of the wits his foes, but fools his friends.

So some coarse country wench, almost decay'd, Trudges to town, and first turns chambermaid: Awkward and supple each devoir to pay, She facters her good lady twice a day; Thought wond'rous honest, tho' of mean degree, And strangely lik'd for her simplicity: In a translated 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. Now nothing's left; but wither’d, pale, and shrunk, To bawd for others, and go shares with punk.

He requested, by publick advertisements, the aid of the ingenious, to make up a miscellany, ir 1713.



verse, and what he gets commeni',

left; but wither'd, pale, and shruz

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; le Macer, now of high renown,

a poet's fortune in the town; 1' ambition his great soul could feel

, J.:ockings, and to dine with Stek

. of verse his betters might afford, e harmless fellow a good word these, he ventur'd on the town, w'd play ourdid poor Crown 7 short, nor since has writ a city S:0 make the most of little;

"ebound trees, that just have got at once to bear and rot.

SYLVIA my heart in wondrous wise alarm’d,
Aw'd without sense, and without beauty charm’d:
But some odd graces and some fights she had,
Was just not ugly, and was just not mad:
Her tongue still ran on credit from her eyes,

pert than witty, more a wit than wise :
Goodnature, she declar'd it, was her scorn,
Tho' 'twas by that alone she could be born:
Affronting all, yet fond of a good name ;
A fool to pleasure, yet a slave to fame :
Now coy, and studious in no point to fall,
Now all agog for D-y at a ball :
Now deep in Taylor, and the Book of Martyrs,
Now drinking citron with his grace and Chartres.

Men, some to bus’ness, some to pleasure take; But ev'ry woman's in her soul a rake. Frail, fev'rish sex! their fit now chills, now burns: Atheism and superstition rule by turns ; And the mere heathen in her carnal part Is still a sad good Christian in her heart."

ühis fees, but fools his friends
the country wench, almost decerle
H.], and first turns chambersed:
? umple each devoir to per
god lady twice a day;
i'rous honest, thoof mean degree

SK'd for her simplicity:
suit then tries the town,

, and patches not her own;
u the winter she began,

• Printed in the Characters of Women,

onths a batter'd harridan.

iers, and go shares with punk.

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br publck advertisements, the aid of these p a miscellany, ia 1713.


THOUGH ARTEMISIA talks, by fits,
Of councils, classicks, fathers, wits;

Reads Malbranche, Boyle, and Locke :
Yet in some things, methinks, she fails;
'Twere well, if she would pare her nails,

And wear a cleaner smock.

Haughty and huge as High Dutch bride ;
Such nasciness, and so much pride,

Are oddly join'd by fate :
On her large squab you find her spread,
Like a fate corpse upon a bed,

That lies and stinks in state.
She wears no colours (sign of grace)
On any part except her face ;

All white and black beside :
Dauntless her look, her gesture proud,
Her voice theatrically loud,

And masculine her stride.

So have I seen, in black and white,
A prating thing, a magpie hight,

Majestically stalk;
A stately, worthless animal,
That plies the tongue, and wags the tail,

All Mutter, pride, and talk.


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Obscure by birth, renown’d by crimes,
Still changing names, religions, climes,

At length she turns a bride :
In diamonds, pearls, and rich brocades,
She shines the first of batter'd jades,

And Autters in her pride.

cler stride.

in black and white,

a magpie hight, ak;


So have I known those insects fair,
Which curious Germans hold so rare,

Still vary shapes and dies;
Still gain new titles with new forms;
First grubs obscene, then wriggling worms,

Then painted butterflies.

s ue, and wags the tail, , and talk.

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IN vain you boast poetic names of yore,
And cite those Sapphoes we admire no more:
Fate doom'd the fall of every female wit ;
But doom'd it then, when first Ardelia writ.
Of all examples by the world confest,
I knew Ardelia could not quote the best;
Who, like her mistress on Britannia's throne,
Fights and subdues in quarrels not her own.
To write their praise you but in vain essay ;
Ev’n while you write, you take that praise away:
Light to the stars the sun does thus restore,
But shines himself till they are seen no more.


A BISHOP by his neighbours hated
Has cause to wish himself translated ;
But why should Hough desire translation,
Lov'd and esteem'd by all the nation ?
Yet, if it be the old man's case,
I'll lay my life I know the place :
'Tis where God sent some that adore him,
And whither Enoch went before him.


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