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And then that charming party for to-morrow!”. In glittering scenes, o'er her own heart, severe ; Though, well she knows, 't will languish into sorrow: In crowds, collected ; and in courts, sincere ; But she dares never boast the present hour ; Sincere, and warm, with zeal well-understood, so gross that cheat, it is beyond her power :
She takes a noble pride in doing good;
Yet, not superior to her sex's cares,
In these great points she leads the commonweal ; Pleasures are few, and fewer we enjoy ;
And if disputes of empire rise between Pleasure, like quicksilver, is bright, and coy; Mechlin the queen of lace, and Colberteen, We strive to grasp it with our utmost skill, 'T is doubt! 't is darkness ! till suspended fate Still it eludes us, and it glitters still :
Assumes her nod, to close the grand debate. If seiz'd at last, compute your mighty gains;
When such her mind, why will the fair express What is it, but rank poison in your veins ?
Their emulation only in their dress? As Flavia in her glass an angel spies,
But oh! the nymph that mounts above the skies, Pride whispers in her ear pernicious lies ;
And, gratis, clears religious mysteries, Tells her, while she surveys a face so fine,
Resolu'd the church's welfare to ensure,
And make her family a sine-cure :
And thanks her Maker that her cards are good.
Can she more decently the doctor woo? Ah, barbarous man," she cries, “how could you 'T is hard, too, she who makes no use but chat sleep?"
Of her religion, should be barr'd in that. Men love a mistress as they love a feast ;
Isaac, a brother of the canting strain, How grateful one to touch, and one to taste ! When he has knock'd at his own skull in vain, Yet sure there is a certain time of day,
To beauteous Marcia often will repair We wish our mistress, and our meat, away :
With a dark text, to light it at the fair. But soon the sated appetites return,
O how his pious soul exults to find Again our stomachs crave, our bosoins burn : Such love for holy men in woman-kind! Eternal love let man, then, never swear;
Charm'd with her learning, with what rapture he Let women never triumph, nor despair ;
Hangs on her bloom, like an industrious bee; Nor praise, nor blame, too much, the warm, or chill; Hums round about her, and with all his power Hunger and love are foreign to the will.
Extracts sweet wisdom from so fair a flower ! There is indeed a passion more refin'd,
The young and gay declining, Appia flies For those few nymphs whose charms are of the mind : At nobler game, the mighty and the wise : But not of that unfashionable set
By nature more an eagle than a dove, Is Phyllis ; Phyllis and her Damon met.
She impiously prefers the world to love. Eternal love exactly hits her taste ;
Can wealth give happiness ? look round and see Phyllis demands eternal love at least.
What gay distress ! what splendid misery!
The mind annihilates, and calls for more.
How will the miser startle, to be told
Of such a wonder, as insolvent gold ! The fair philosopher to Rowley flies,
What nature wants has an intrinsic weight; Where, in a box, the whole creation lies :
All more is but the fashion of the plate, She sees the planets in their turns advance,
Which, for one moment, charms the fickle view; And scorns, Poitier, thy sublunary dance : It charms us now; anon we cast anew ; Of Desaguliers she bespeaks fresh air ;
To some fresh birth of fancy more inclin'd: And Whiston has engagements with the fair. Then wed not acres, but a noble mind. What vain experiments Sophronia tries !
Mistaken lovers, who make worth their care, *T is not in air-pumps the gay colonel dies. And think accomplishments will win the fair ; But though to-day this rage of science reigns, The fair, 't is true, by genius should be won, (O fickle sex !) soon end her learned pains. As flowers unfold their beauties to the Sun ; Lo! Pug from Jupiter her heart has got,
And yet in female scales a fop outweighs, Turns out the stars, and Newton is a sot.
And wit must wear the willow and the bays. To
turn; she never took the height Nought shines so bright in vain Liberia's eye Of Saturn, yet is ever in the right.
As riot, impudence, and perfidy ; She strikes each point with native force of mind, The youth of fire, that has drunk deep, and play'd, While puzzled Learning blunders far behind. And kill'd his nian, and triumph'd o'er his maid; Graceful to sight, and elegant to thought,
For him, as yet unhang'd, she spreads her charms, The great are vanquish'd, and the wise are taught Snatches the dear destroyer to her arms; Her breeding finish’d, and her temper sweet, And amply gives (though treated long amiss) When serious, easy; and when gay, discreet; The man of merit his revenge in this.
If you resent, and wish a woman ill,
Leads on your train, and sparkles at your head, But turn her o'er one moment to her will
What seems most hard, is, not to be well-bred The languid lady next appears in state,
Her bright example with success pursue, Who was not born to carry her own weight; And all, but adoration, is your due. She lolls, reels, staggers, till some foreign aid “ But adoration! give me something more," To her own stature lifts the feeble maid.
Cries Lycé, on the borders of threescore : Then, if ordain'd to so severe a doom,
Nought treads so silent as the foot of time; Sle, by just stages, journeys round the room : Hence we mistake our autumn for our prinne ; But, knowing her own weakness, she despairs 'T is greatly wise to know, before we 're told, To scale the Alps - that is, ascend the stairs. The melancholy news, that we grow old. My fan! let others say, who laugh at toil;
Autumnal Lycé carries in her face Fan! hood! glove ! scarf! is her laconic style ; Memento mori to each public place. And that is spoke with such a dying fall,
O how your beating breast a mistress warts, That Betty rather sees than hears the call :
Who looks through spectacles to see your charms The motion of her lips, and meaning eye,
While rival undertakers hover round, Piece out th' idea her faint words deny.
And with his spade the sexton marks the ground O listen with attention most profound !
Intent not on her own, but others doom, Her voice is but the shadow of a sound.
She plans new conquests, and defrauds the tamb. And help! oh help! her spirits are so dead, In vain the cock has summon'd sprites away, One hand scarce lifts the other to her head. She walks at noon, and blasts the bloom of day. If, there, a stubborn pin it triumphs o'er,
Gay rainbow silks her mellow charms infold, She pants ! she sinks away! and is no more. And nought of Lycé but herself is old. Let the robust and the gigantic carve,
Her grizzled locks assume a smirking grace, Life is not worth so much, she 'd rather starve : And art has levell d her deep furrow'd face. But chew she must herself ; ah cruel fate!
Her strange demand no mortal can approve, That Rosalinda can't by prory eat.
We 'll ask her blessing, but can't ask her love. An antidote in female caprice lies
She grants, indeed, a lady may decline (Kind Heaven !) against the poison of their eyes. (All ladies but herself) at ninety-nine. Thalestris triumphs in a manly mien ;
O how unlike her was the sacred age Loud is her accent, and her phrase obscene.
Of prudent Portia! Her gray
hairs engage, In fair and open dealing where 's the shame? Whose thoughts are suited to her life's decline: What Nature dares to give, she dares to name. Virtue 's the paint that can with wrinkles shine ; This honest fellow is sincere and plain,
That, and that only, can old age sustain ; And justly gives the jealous husband pain.
Which yet all wish, nor know they wish for peis. (Vain is the task to petticoats assign'd,
Not numerous are our joys, when life is new; If wanton language shows a naked mind.)
And yearly some are falling of the few ; And, now and then, to grace her eloquence, But when we conquer life's meridian stage, An oath supplies the vacancies of sense.
And downward tend into the vale of age, Hark! the shrill notes transpierce the yielding air, They drop apace ; by nature some decay, And teach the neighbouring Echoes how to swear. And some the blasts of fortune sweep away; By Jove, is faint, and for the simple swain ; Till, naked quite of happiness, aloud She, on the Christian system, is profane.
We call for death, and shelter in a shroud. But though the volley rattles in your ear,
Where 's Portia now ? - But Portia left behind Believe her dress, she's not a grenadier.
Two lovely copies of her form and mind. If thunder 's aweful, how much more our dread, What heart untouch'd their early grief can view, When Jove deputes a lady in his stead ?
Like blushing rose-buds dipp'd in morning dev? A lady? pardon my mistaken pen,
Who into shelter takes their tender bloom, A shameless woman is the worst of men.
And forms their minds to flee from ills to come? Few to good-breeding make a just pretence; The mind, when turn'd adrift, no rules to guide, Good-breeding is the blossom of good-sense ; Drives at the mercy of the wind and tide; The last result of an accomplish'd mind,
Fancy and passion toss it to and fro; With outward grace, the body's virtue, join'd. Awhile torment, and then quite sink in woe. A violated decency now reigns ;
Ye beauteous orphans, since in silent dust And nymphs for failings take peculiar pains. Your best erample lies, my precepts trust. With Chinese painters modern toasts agree,
Life swarms with ills; the boldest are afraid: The point they aim at is deformity :
Where then is safety for a tender maid? They throw their persons with a hoyden air
Unfit for conflict, round beset with woes, Across the room, and toss into the chair.
And man, whom least she fears, her worst of foes! So far their commerce with mankind is gone, When kind, most cruel ; when oblig'd the mos, They, for our manners, have exchang'd their own. The least obliging; and by favours lost. The modest look, the castigated grace,
Cruel by nature, they for kindness hate; The gentle movement, and slow-measur'd pace, And scorn you for those ills themselves create. For which her lovers died, her parents paid,
If on your fame our sex a blot has thrown, Are indecorums with the modern maid.
'T will ever stick, through malice of your ore. Stiff forms are bad ; but let not worse intrude, Most hard! in pleasing your chief glory lies; Nor conquer art and nature, to be rude.
And yet from pleasing your chief dangers rise: Modern good-breeding carry to its height,
Then please the best ; and know, for men of sense, And Lady D-'s self will be polite.
Your strongest charms are native innocence. Ye rising fair! ye bloom of Britain's isle ! Arts on the mind, like paint upon the face, (brace When high-born Anna, with a soften'd smile, Fright him, that 's worth your love, from your e
I simple manners all the secret lies ;
There is no woman, where there's no reserve ; a kind and virtuous, you 'll be blest and wise. And 't is on plenty your poor lovers starve. ain show and noise intoxicate the brain,
But with a modern fair, meridian merit egin with giddiness, and end in pain.
Is a fierce thing, they call a nymph of spiril. ffect not empty fame, and idle praise,
Mark well the rollings of her flaming eye ; hich, all those wretches I describe, betrays. And tread on tiptoe, if you dare draw nigh. our sex's glory 't is, to shine unknown ;
“ Or if you take a lion by the beard , f all applause, be fondest of your own.
Or dare defy the fell Hyrcanian pard, aware the fever of the mind ? that thirst
Or arm'd rhinoceros, or rough Russian bear," "ith which the age is eminently curst :
First make your will, and then converse with her. drink of pleasure, but inflames desire ;
This lady glories in profuse expense ; nd abstinence alone can quench the fire;
And thinks distraction is magnificence. ake pain from life, and terrour from the tomb ; To beggar her gallant is some delight; ive peace in hand ; and promise bliss to come. To be more fatal still, is erquisite;
Had ever nymph such reason to be glad ?
In duel fell two lovers; one run mad;
Her foes their honest execrations pour ;
Her lovers only should detest her more.
Flavia is constant to her old gallant, SCRIBED TO THE RIGHT HON. THE LADY ELIZABETH | And generously supports him in his want.
But marriage is a fetter, is a snare,
A hell, no lady so polite can bear. Interdum tamen et tollit comædia vocem. She 's faithful, she 's observant, and with pains
Her angel-brood of bastards she maintains,
Nor least advantage has the fair to plead, SOUGHT a patroness, but sought in vain.
But that of guilt above the marriage-bed. pollo whispered in my ear -“ Germain."
Amasia hates a prude, and scorns restraint ; know her not. — “ Your reason 's somewhat odd; Whate'er she is, she'll not appear a saint: Tho knows his patron, now ?"' replied the god.
Her soul superior flies formality ; Men write, to me, and to the world, unknown; So gay her air, her conduct is so free, nen steal great naines, to shield them from the Some might suspect the nymph not over-good. town:
Nor would they be mistaken, if they should. etected worth, like beauty disarray'd,
Unmarried Abra puts on formal airs; o covert flies, of praise itself afraid ;
Her cushion 's thread-bare with her constant prayers. hould she refuse to patronise your lays,
Her only grief is, that she cannot be i vengeance write a volume in her praise.
At once engag'd in prayer and charity. or think it hard so great a length to run;
And this, to do her justice, must be said, Then such the theme, 't will easily be done." “ Who would not think that Abra was a maid?" Ye fair! to draw your excellence at length,
Some ladies are too beauteous to be wed; xceeds the narrow bounds of human strength;
For where's the man that 's worthy of their bed? ou, here, in miniature your picture see ;
If no disease reduce her pride before, or hope from Zinck more justice than from me. Lavinia will be ravish'd at threescore. y portraits grace your mind, as his your side ;
Then she submits to venture in the dark; is portraits will inflame, mine quench, your pride : And nothing now is wanting - but her spark. e's dear, you frugal; choose my cheaper lay;
Lucia thinks happiness consists in state ; ind be your reformation all my pay.
She weds an idiot, but she eats in plate. Lavinia is polite, but not profane ;
The goods of fortune, which her soul possess, o church as constant as to Drury-lane.
Are but the ground of unmade happiness ; ve decently, in form, pays Heaven its due ; The rude material : wisdom add to this, nd makes a civil visit to her pew.
Wisdom, the sole artificer of bliss; ler lifted fan, to give a solemn air,
She from herself, if so compell’d by need, onceals her face, which passes for a prayer :
Of thin content can draw the subtle thread; urt’sies to curt'sies, then, with grace, succeed ;
But (no detraction to her sacred skill) fot one the fair omits, but at the Creed.
If she can work in gold, 't is better still. kr, if she joins the service, 't is to speak ;
If Tullia had been blest with half her sense, hrough dreadful silence the pent heart might break : None could too much admire her excellence : Intaught to bear it, women talk away
But since she can make errour shine so bright, o God himself, and fondly think they pray.
She thinks it vulgar to defend the right. fut sweet their accent, and their air refin'd;
With understanding she is quite o'er-run; for they 're before their Maker - and mankind : And by too great accomplishments undone : Vhen ladies once are proud of praying well,
With skill she vibrates her eternal tongue, atan himself will toll the parish bell.
For ever most divincly in the wrong. Acquainted with the world, and quite well-bred, Naked in nothing should a woman be ; Drusa receives her visitants in bed ;
But veil her very wit with modesty : But, chaste as ice, this Vesta, to defy
Let men discover, let not her display, The very blackest tongue of calumny,
But yield her charms of mind with sweet delay. When from the sheets
her lovely forn she lifts, For pleasure form'd, perversely some believe, She begs you just would turn you, while she shifts.
To make themselves important, men must grieve. Those charms are greatest which decline the sight, That makes the banquet poignant and polite.
Te to cos
A Lucia's Te world
As izdship Bu borga 1L Harley
0ra ber in Babcc
And would draw on jack-boots, as soon as glors le beight of Gloves by queen Bess's maidens might be rast, luk pert When most the world applauds you, most besan;
Legg onl: Whom praise we most? The virtuous, brane, al | By which our spleen may wound true worth the more
Ladies there are who think one crime is all
Can women, then, no way but backward fall ?
Lesbia the fair, to fire her jealous lord,
For difficult amours can smooth the way, Pretends, the fop she laughs at, is ador'd.
And tender letters dictate, or convey. Who hold In vain she's proud of secret innocence;
But, if deprir'd of such important cares,
Mira, endow'd with every charm to bless, For her own breakfast she 'll project a scheme,
Important, by the virtue of grimace.
Nr kind “ How charming this !” — The pleasure lasted long; Ladies supreme among amusements reign; Daphinis Now every day the fits come thick and strong : By nature born to soothe, and entertain. At last he found the charmer only feign'd;
Their prudence in a share of folly lies :
Aspena's And was diverted when he should be pain’d. Why will they be so weak, as to be trik? What greater vengeance have the gods in store ? Syrena is for ever in extremes,
Almeria's How tedious life, now she can plague no more ! And with a vengeance she commends
, or blam Asd wit's She tries a thousand arts; but none succeed : Conscious of her discernment, which is good, She's forc'd a fever to procure indeed;
She strains too much to make it understood. Thus strictly prov'd this virtuous, loving wife, Her judgment just, her sentence is too strong; Her husband's pain was dearer than her life. Because she 's right, she's ever in the wrote: Anxious Melania rises to my view,
Brunetta 's wise in actions, great, and rart: Who never thinks her lover pays his due :
But scorns on trifles to bestow her care. Visit, present, treat, flatter, and adore ;
Thus every hour Brunetta is to blame, Her majesty, to-morrow, calls for more.
Because th' occasion is beneath her aim. His wounded ears complaints eternal fill,
Think nought a trifle, though it small appear; As unoil'd hinges, querulously shrill.
Small sands the mountain, moments make the sea la árst of “ You went last night with Celia to the ball." And trifles life. Your care to trifles give, You prove it false.“ Not go ! that 's worst of all.” Or you may die, before you truly live. Nothing can please her, nothing not inflame;
Go breakfast with Alicia, there you 'll see,
Simpler munditüs, to the last degree :
, His mirth is an inexpiable sin :
And what she has of head-dress, is aside. For of all rivals that can pain her breast,
She draws her words, and waddles in her pare; There 's one, that wounds far deeper than the rest ;
Unwash'd her hands, and much besnuff*d bur is To wreck her quiet, the most dreadful shelf
A nail uncut, and head uncomb'd, she love: Is if her lover dares enjoy himself.
And this, because she's exquisitely fair : Should I dispute her beauty, how she 'd stare !
Her blessed eyes ne'er saw a female fust. How would Melania be surpris'd to hear
Lovers, beware! to wound how can she ful She 's quite deform’d! And yet the case is clear ; With scarlet finger, and long jetty nail? What 's female beauty, but an air divine,
For Harvey, the first wit she cannot be,
Since full each other station of renown,
Women were made to give our eyes deligla ;
That her dear self is her eternal theme ;
'T is often less a blessing than a snare. “ Folks are so awkward ! Things so unpolite !"
Distrust mankind; with your own heart confer; She 's elegantly pain'd from morn till night.
And dread even there to find a flatterer. Her delicacy's shock'd where'er she goes; The breath of others raises our renown; Each creature's imperfections are her woes. Our own as surely blows the pageant down. Heaven by its favour has the fair distrest,
Take up no more than you by worth can clair
, And pour'd such blessings that she can't be blest. Lest soon you prove
a bankrupt in your fame
It often hinders what it should procure.
Julia 's a manager ; she 's born for rule;
a pot a
they be prt languish
, ne percei e nich musti in feel their go bir humble Dave their tre
w the WT But some, &
borded try We think thei
ho hold the crime so dear, must never claim Grand reservoirs of public happiness, *injur'd neodesty the sacred name.
Through secret streams diffusively they bless; But Clio thus: “ What! railing without end? And, while their bounties glide, conceal'd from view, 2an task! how much more generous to com- | Relieve our wants, and spare our blushes too. mend!"
But Satire is my task; and these destroy s, to commend as you are wont to do,
Her gloomy province, and malignant joy. kind instructor, and erample too.
Help me, ye misers ! help me to complain, Daphnis,” says Clio,“ has a charming eye :
And blast our common enemy, Germain : hat pity 't is her shoulder is awry !
But our invectives must despair success; pasia's shape indeed — But then her air
For, next to praise, she values nothing less. e man has parts who finds destruction there. What picture 's yonder, loosen'd from its frame ? meria's wit has something that 's divine ; Or is 't Asturia, that affected dame ? id wit 's enough - how few in all things shine ! The brightest forms, through affectation, fade ina serves her friends, relieves the poor To strange new things, which Nature never made. 10 was it said Selina 's near threescore?
Frown not, ye fair! so much your sex we prize, Lucia's match I from my soul rejoice;
We hate those arts that take you from our eyes. e world congratulates so wise a choice;
In Albucinda's native grace is seen s lordship's rent-roll is exceeding great
What you, who labour at perfection, mean. t mortgages will sap the best estate.
Short is the rule, and to be learnt with case, Shirley's form might cherubims appear; Retain your gentle selves, and you must please. t then she has a freckle on her ear.
Here might I sing of Memmia's mincing mien, thout a but, Hortensia she commends,
And all the movements of the soft machine : e first of women, and the best of friends;
How two red lips affected Zephyrs blow, ins her in person, wit, fame, virtue bright; To cool the bohea, and inflame the beau : t how comes this to pass ? - She died last night. While one white finger and a-thumb conspire l'hus nymphs commend, who yet at satire rail : To lift the cup, and make the world admire. leed that's needless, if such praise prevail. Tea! how I tremble at tlıy fatal stream! á whence such praise? Our virulence is thrown As Lethe, dreadful to the Love of Fame. · others' fame, through fondness for our own.
What devastations on thy banks are seen ! Df rank and riches proud, Cleora frowns; What shades of mighty names which once have been ! are not coronets a-kin to crowns ?
A hecatomb of characters supplies r greedy eye, and her sublime address,
Thy painted altars' daily sacrifice. e height of avarice and pride confess.
H-P-, B-, aspers’d by thee, decay, u seek perfections worthy of her rank ;
As grains of finest sugars melt away, seek for her perfections at the Bank.
And recommend thee more to mortal taste; wealth unquench'd, by reason uncontrollid,
Scandal 's the sweetener of a female feast. · ever burns her sacred thirst of gold.
But this inhuman triumph shall decline, fond of five-pence, as the veriest cits
And thy revolting Naiads call for wine ; d quite as much detested as a wit.
Spirits no longer shall serve under thee; Can gold calm passion, or make reason shine ? But reign in thy own cup, exploded tea ! a we dig peace, or wisdom, from the mine? Citronia's nose declares thy ruin nigh, sdom to gold prefer; for 't is much less And who dares give Citronia's nose the lie? make our fortune, than our happiness.
The ladies long at men of drink exclaim'd, at happiness which great ones often see,
And what impair'd both health and virtue, blam'd; th rage and wonder, in a low degree ;
At length, to rescue man, the generous lass emselves unblest. The poor are only poor !
Stole from her consort the pernicious glass ; t what are they who drvop amid their store ! As glorious as the British queen renown'd, thing is meaner than a wretch of state ;
Who suck'd the poison from her husband's wound. e happy only are the truly great.
Nor to the glass alone are nymphs inclin'd, asants enjoy like appetites with kings;
But every bolder vice of bold mankind. d those best satisfied with cheapest things.
O Juvenal! for thy severer rage ! uld both our Indies buy but one new sense,
To lash the ranker follies of our age. r envy would be due to large expense.
Are there, among the females of our isle, ce not, those pomps which to the great belong, Such faults, at which it is a fault to smile? e but poor arts to mark them from the throng.
Vice, once by modest nature chain'd how they beg an alms of flattery!
And legal ties, expatiates unrestrain'd; ey languish! oh support them with a lie ! Without thin decency held up to view, decent competence we fully taste;
Naked she stalks o'er Law and Gospel too. trikes our sense, and gives a constant feast : Our matrons lead such exemplary lives, re, we perceive by dint of thought alone; Men sigh in vain for none but for their wives ; e rich must labour to possess their own,
Who marry to be free, to range the more, feel their great abundance; and request And wed one man, to wanton with a score. eir humble friends to help them to be blest; Abroad too kind, at home 't is stedfast hate,
see their treasures, hear their glory told, And one eternal tempest of debate. d aid the wretched impotence of gold.
What foul eruptions, from a look most meek! But some, great souls! and touchd with warmth What thunders bursting, from a dimpled cheek ! divine,
Their passions bear it with a lofty hand ! e gold a price, and teach its beams to shine. But then, their reason is at due command. hoarded treasures they repute a load;
Is there whom you detest, and seek his life? think their wealth their own, till well bestow'd. Trust no soul with the secret - but his wife,