Men, some to business, some to pleasure take; every woman's in her soul a rake. But Frail, feverish sex; their fit now chills, now burns; And a mere heathen in the carnal part, IMPROMPTU, TO LADY WINCHELSEA.1 OCCASIONED BY FOUR SATIRICAL VERSES ON WOMEN WITS, IN THE RAPE OF THE LOCK. In vain you boast poetic names of yore, 1 Authoress of a volume of poems, some of which possess very great merit. EPIGRAM. A BISHOP by his neighbours hated I'll lay my life I know the place: 'Tis where God sent some that adore him, And whither Enoch went before him. EPIGRAM, ON THE FEUDS ABOUT HANDEL AND BONONCINI. STRANGE! all this difference should be "Twixt Tweedle-dum and Tweedle-dee! ON MRS. TOFTS, A CELEBRATED OPERA SINGER. So bright is thy beauty, so charming thy song, As had drawn both the beasts and their Orpheus along: But such is thy avarice, and such is thy pride, That the beasts must have starv'd, and the poet have died. THE BALANCE OF EUROPE. Now Europe balanc'd, neither side prevails; For nothing's left in either of the scales. EPITAPH ON LORD CONINGSBY. HERE lies Lord Coningsby-be civil! EPIGRAM. You beat your pate, and fancy wit will come: Knock as you please, there's nobody at home. EPIGRAM FROM THE FRENCH. SIR, I admit your general rule, That every poet is a fool: But you yourself may serve to show it, WELL then, poor G EPITAPH. lies under ground! So there's an end of honest Jack. So little justice here he found, 'Tis ten to one he'll ne'er come back. EPIGRAM ON THE TOASTS OF THE KIT-CAT CLUB, ANNO 1716. WHENCE deathless Kit-cat' took its name, Few critics can unriddle: Some say from 'Pastrycook' it came, From no trim beaux its name it boasts, But from this pellmell pack of toasts TO A LADY, WITH THE TEMPLE OF FAME. WHAT'S fame with men, by custom of the nation, Is call'd, in women, only reputation: About them both why keep we such a pother? Part you with one, and I'll renounce the other. ON THE COUNTESS OF BURLINGTON PALLAS grew vapourish once and odd; Nor work, nor play, nor paint, nor sing. Jove frown'd, and "Use (he cried) those eyes This vexing him who gave her birth, Pallas, you give yourself strange airs ; Alas! one bad example shown, How quickly all the sex pursue! See, madam, see the arts o'erthrown Between John Overton and you! ON DRAWINGS OF THE STATUES OF APOLLO, VENUS, AND HERCULES, MADE FOR POPE BY SIR GODFREY KNELLER. WHAT god, what genius did the pencil move, 'Twas friendship, warm as Phœbus, kind as Love, And strong as Hercules. |