Brave, gen'rous, witty, and exactly free
From loofe Behaviour, or Formality:
Airy, and prudent; merry, but not light;
Quick in difcerning, and in judging Right:
Secret they should be, faithful to their Truft;
In Reas'ning cool, ftrong, temperate, and just :
Obliging, open, without Huffing, brave;
Brisk in gay Talking, and, in sober, grave :
Clofe in Dispute, but not tenacious; try'd
By folid Reason, and let that decide :
Not prone to Luft, Revenge, or envious Hate;
Nor bufy Medlers with Intrigues of State :
Strangers to Slander, and sworn Foes to Spite;
Not quarrelfome, but stout enough to fight :
Loyal, and pious, Friends to Cæfar; true,
As dying Martyrs, to their Maker too.
In their Society I could not mifs

A permanent, fincere, fubftantial Blifs.
Would bounteous Heav'n once more indulge,
I'd chufe

(For who would fo much Satisfaction lose,
As witty Nymphs in Converfation give)
Near fome obliging, modeft Fair to live:
For there's that Sweetnefs in a Female Mind,
Which in a Man's we cannot hope to find;
That, by a fecret, but a pow'rful Art,
Winds up the Spring of Life, and does im-

part

Fresh, vital Heat to the transported Heart.

I'd have her Reafon all her Paffion fway; Easy in Company, in private gay: Coy to a Fop, to the Deserving free Still conftant to herself, and just to me. A Soul she should have for great Actions fit; Prudence and Wisdom to direct her Wit: Courage to look bold Danger in the Face; No Fear, but only to be proud or base: Quick to advise, by an Emergence preft, To give good Counsel, or to take the best. I'd have th' Expreffion of her Thoughts be fuch, She might not seem referv'd, nor talk too much : That shews a Want of Judgment, and of Sense; More than enough is but Impertinence. Her Conduct regular, her Mirth refin'd; Civil to Strangers, to her Neighbours kind: Averse to Vanity, Revenge, and Pride; In all the Methods of Deceit untry'd: So faithful to her Friend, and good to all, No Cenfure might upon her Actions fall: Then would e'en Envy be compell'd to say, She goes the leaft of Womankind aftray.

To this fair Creature I'd fometimes retire; Her Conversation wou'd new Joys inspire: Give Life an Edge so keen, no furly Care Would venture to affault my Soul, or dare, Near my Retreat, to hide one fecret Snare. But fo divine, fo noble a Repast

I'd feldom, and with Moderation, tafte:

For

For highest Cordials all their Virtue lofe,
By a too frequent and too bold a Ufe;
And what would cheer the Spirits in Diftrefs,
Ruins our Health, when taken to Excefs.
I'd be concern'd in no litigious Jar ;
Belov'd by all, not vainly popular.
Whate'er Affiftance I had Pow'r to bring,
T'oblige my Country, or to serve my King,
Whene'er they call, I'd readily afford

My Tongue, my Pen, my Counfel, or my Sword.
Law-fuits I'd fhun, with as much studious Care,
As I wou'd Dens where hungry Lions are;
And rather put up Injuries, than be

A Plague to him, who'd be a Plague to me..
I value Quiet at a Price too great,

To give for my Revenge fo dear a Rate:
For what do we by all our Buftle gain,
But counterfeit Delight for real Pain?

If Heav'n a Date of many Years would give,
Thus I'd in Pleasure, Ease, and Plenty live.
And as I near approach'd the Verge of Life,
Some kind Relation (for I'd have no Wife)
Shou'd take upon him all my worldly Care,
Whilft I did for a better State prepare.
Then I'd not be with any Trouble vex'd,
Nor have the Ev'ning of my Days perplex'd;
But by a filent and a peaceful Death,
Without a Sigh, refign my aged Breath.
And when committed to the Duft, I'd have
Few Tears, but friendly, dropt into my Grave..

Then

Then would my Exit fo propitious be,

All Men would wish to live and die like me.

CRUELTY and LUST.

An EPISTOLARY TALE. *

WHE

By Mr. POMFRET.

HERE can the wretched'ft of all Creatures fly,

To tell the Story of her Mifery?

Where, but to faithful Celia, in whofe Mind
A manly Brav'ry's with foft Pity join'd.

I fear these Lines will scarce be understood,
Blurr'd with inceffant Tears, and writ in Blood.
But if you can the mournful Pages read,
The fad Relation fhews you fuch a Deed,
As all the Annals of th' infernal Reign
Shall ftrive to equal, or exceed, in vain.
Neronior's Fame, no doubt, has reach'd your
Ears,

Whofe Cruelty has caus'd a Sea of Tears;

*This Piece was occafioned by the Barbarity of Kirke, a Commander in the Western Rebellion, 1685, who debauched a young Lady, with a Promise to fave her Hufband's Life, but banged him the next Morning..

Fill'd each lamenting Town with Fun'ral Sighs, Deploring Widows Shrieks, and Orphans Cries. At ev'ry Health the horrid Monster quaff'd, Ten Wretches dy'd; and, as they dy'd, he laugh'd:

Till, tir'd with acting Devil, he was led, Drunk, with Excefs of Blood and Wine, to Bed. Oh, curfed Place!- I can no more command My Pen; Shame and Confusion shake myHand: But I must on, and let my Celia know

How barb'rous are my Wrongs, how vaft my Woe.

Amongst the Croud of Western Youth, who

ran

To meet the brave, betray'd, unhappy Man*,
My Husband, fatally uniting, went ;

Unus❜d to Arms, and thoughtless of th' Event.
But when the Battle was by Treach'ry won,
The Chief, and all, but his falfe Friend, undone;
Tho', in the Tumult of that defp'rate Night,
He fcap'd the dreadful Slaughter of the Fight;
Yet the fagacious Blood-hounds, fkill'd too well
In all the murd'ring Qualities of Hell,
Each fecret Place fo regularly beat,
They foon difcover'd his unfafe Retreat.
As hungry Wolves, triumphing o'er their Prey,
To fure Destruction hurry them away:
So the Purveyors of fierce Moloc's Son,
With Charion, to the common Butch'ry run;

*The Duke of Monmouth.

Where