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VERBATIM FROM BOILEAU.
UN JOUR, DIT UN AUTEUR, &C.
NCE (fays an Author, where I need not fay) Two Travellers found an Oyfter in their way Both fierce, both hungry; the Dispute grew ftrong, While Scale in hand Dame Juftice pafs'd along. Before her each with clamour pleads the Laws, Explain'd the matter, and would win the cause. Dame Juftice weighing long the doubtful Right, Takes, opens, fwallows it, before their fight. The cause of ftrife remov'd fo rarely well, There take (fays Juftice) take you each a Shell. We thrive at Westminster on Fools like you: 'Twas a fat Oyfter-Live in peace-Adieu.
ANSWER to the following Queftion of Mrs. HowE.
HAT IS PRUDERY?
'Tis a Beldam,
Seen with Wit and Beauty seldom.
Occafioned by foine Verfes of his Grace the Duke of BUCKINGHAM.
USE, 'tis enough? at length thy labour ends, And thou shalt live, for Buckingham commends. Let Crowds of Critics now my verse affail, Let Dennis write, and nameless numbers rail: This more than whole years pays of thankless pain,` Time, health, and fortune, are not loft in vain. Sheffield approves, confenting Phoebus bends, And I and Malice from this hour are friends.
BY MR. POPE,
To a Play for Mr. DENNIS'S Benefit, in 1733, when he was old, blind, and in great Diftrefs, a little before his Death.
S when that Hero, who in each Campaign Had brav'd the Goth, and many a Vandal sain, Lay Fortune-ftruck, a fpectacle of Woe! Wept by each Friend, forgiv'n by every Foe: Was there a generous, a reflecting mind, But pitied Belifarius old and blind? Was there a Chief but melted at the Sight? A common Soldier, but who clubb'd his Mite?
Such, fuch emotions fhould in Britons rife,
If there's a Senior, who contemns this age;}]
BY POPE AND MALLET*.
HEN Learning, after the long Gothic night, Fair, o'er the Western world, renew'd its light, With arts arifing, Sophonisba rofe:
The Tragic Mufe, returning, wept her woes.
* I have been told by Savage, that of the Prologue to Sophonifba the first part was written by Pope, who could not be perfuaded to finish it; and that the concluding lines were written by Mallet. Dr. JOHNSON.
With her th' Italian scene first learn'd to glow;
What foreign theatres with pride have shown,
The heroine rife, to grace the British scene.
Here, as in life, the breathes her genuine flame: 15
To-night, our home-fpun author would be true,
Nature! informer of the Poet's art,
HEN fimple Macer, now of high renown,
Now he begs Verfe, and what he gets commends,
So fome coarse Country Wench, almoft decay'd, 15 Trudges to town, and first turns Chambermaid; Awkward and fupple, each devoir to pay, She flatters her good Lady twice a-day; Thought wondrous honeft, though of mean degree, And strangely lik'd for her Simplicity:
In a tranflated Suit, then tries the Town,
With borrow'd Pins, and Patches not her own:
But juft endur'd the Winter fhe began,
And in four Months a batter'd Harridan.
Now nothing left, but wither'd, pale, and fhrunk, 25 To bawd for others, and go fhares with Punk.