Through dreadful silence the pent heart might break: None could too much admire her excellence :

Untaught to bear it, women talk away

To God himself, and fondly think they pray.
But sweet their accent, and their air refin'd;
For they're before their Maker--and mankind:
When ladies once are proud of praying well,
Satan himself will toll the parish-bell.

Acquainted with the world, and quite well-bred,
Drusa receives her visitants in bed;
But, chaste as ice, this Vesta, to defy
The very blackest tongue of calumny,
When from the sheets her lovely form she lifts,
She begs you just would turn you, while she shifts.
Those charms are greatest which decline the sight,|
That makes the banquet poignant and polite.

Lestia the fair, to ire ser ealous lord.
Pretends, the in the aughs at. a ador 1.
In in she's grond of secret innocenes:
The act she lens were arce a worse offence
Mira, endow 1 with every charm to bless,
Has no design, ont in her husband's peace.
He ov 1 her much: and greatly was de novi
it smail_ngmenudes ʼn her ie or L

• How charming this. -The pleasure asted 'cng.
Now every day the its some fuck and strong.
At last he hund he charmer niv fagi:
And was fiverted when he incnit be pain i
What greater vengeance have the gods in store
How tertions life, now she can plague no more!
She tries a bonsand arts: but none mcceed
She's fore'i a fever to proenre indeed
Thus stretly prov'i this virtuons, loving mf
Her husband's pain was dearer than her life
Anxions Melania rises to my view.
Who never thinks her lover pars his ine:
Visit, present, treat, datter, and adore;
Her majesty to-morrow, calls for morz
His wounded ears complaints eternal till.

As anoti hinges, puerulonsiy shril.

You went last night with Celia to the hall."

Yon prove it faise. Not go! that's worst of all.”
Nothing can please her, nothing not inflame;

And arrant contradictions are the same.
Her lover must be sad, to please her spleen:
His mirth is an inexpiabie sin

For of all rivals that can pain her breast.
There's one, that wounds far deeper than the rest:
To wreck her quiet, the most dreadful shelf
ls if her lover dares enjoy himself.

And this, because she's exquisitely fair:
Should I dispute ner beauty, how she'd stare!
How would Melania e surpra'd to hear
She's quite deform'd! And yet the case is clear:
What's female beanty, bet an air divine,
Through which the mind's all-gentle graces shine!
They, like the Son, irradiate au between;
The body charms because the soul is seen.
Hence, men are often captives of a face,
They know not why, of no peculiar grace:
Some forms, though bright, no mortal man can bear
Some, none resist, though not exceeding fair.

Aspasia's highly born, and nicely bred,
Of taste refin'd, in life and manners read:
Yet reaps no fruit from her superior sense,
Bot to be feas'd by her own excellence.
"Folks are so awkward! Things so impolite.
She's degantly pain'd from morn till night.
Her delicacy's shock'd where'er she goes;
Each creature's imperfections are her woes.
Heaven by its favor has the fair distrest,
And pour'd such blessings-that she can't be blest.
Ah! why so vain, though blooming in thy spring!
Thou shining, frail, ador d, and wretched thing!
Old-age will come; disease may come before;
Fifteen is full as mortal as threescore.
Thy fortune, and thy charms, may soon decay:
But grant these fugitives prolong their stay,
Their basis totters, their foundation shakes;
Life, that supports them, in a moment breaks;
Then wrought into the soul let virtues shine;
The ground eternal, as the work divine.

Julia's a manager; she's born for rule;
And knows her wiser husband is a fool;
Assemblies holds, and spins the subtle thread
That guides the lover to his fair-one's bed:

For tiffienit amours can smooth the way,
And render Letters fictate, or conreu.
3ut. f terry 1 of such mportant cares,
Zer visdom ondescends to less itfairs.
For her men breakfast she project a scheme,
Nor ake her 'ea without a stratagem:
Prestes i les with a serious 'uce;
Important. v he virtue of mare.
Laties supreme unong unusements reign;
Be are born to anothe, and entertain.
Their prudence in a share of folly Jes:
Why wil they be so zrak. is to be wise!
Syrena is for ever in extremes.

And with a vengeance she commends, or blames
Conscious of her fiscernment, which is good,
She strains do much a make it understood.
3er judgment ust, her sentence is too strong;
Because she's night, she's ever in the wrong.

Brinetta's wise in actions. great, and mre:
But scorns ondes to bestow her care.
T's ever hour Brmetta s to hame.
Because th occasion is beneath her num.

Think nought a rie, though it smail appear;
Smail sands the mountain, moments make the year
And les ife. Your care to tiles give.
Or you may die, before you truly live.

Go breakthst with Alicia. there you"I see.
Simpler nanditiis, to the last degree:
Unlac'd her stays, her night-gown is untied,
And what she has of head-tress, is aside.
She draws her words, and waddles in her pace:
Cawash'd her hands, and much besnuff'd her ince
A anil mnent, and head comb'd, she loves:
And would draw on jack-boots, as soon as gloves.
Gloves by queen Bess's maidens might be mist;
Her blessed eves ne er saw a female jist
Lovers, beware! to round how can she ful
With scarlet inger, and long jetty naii!
For Harvey, the first wit she cannot be,
Nor, cruel Renmond, the first toust, for thee.
Since full each other station of renown,
Who would not be the greatest trapes in town!
Women were made to give our eyes delight;
A female sloven is an odous sight.
Fair Isabella is so fund of firne,

That her dear self is her eternal theme:
Through hopes of contradiction, oft she "I say
"Methinks I look so wretchedly to-day!"
When most the world applands you, most beware,
Tis often less a blessing than a snare.
Distrust mankind; with your own heart confer;
And dread even there to find a flatterer.
The breath of others raises our renown;
Our own as surely blows the pageant down.
Take up no more than you by worth can claim,
Lest soon you prove a bankrupt in your fame.

Bat own I must, in this perverted age,
Who most deserte, can't always most engage.
So far is worth from making glory sure,
It often hinders what it should procure.

Whom praise we most? The virtuous, brave.and wise?
No; wretches, whom, in secret, we despise.
And who so blind, as not to see the cause!
No rivals rais'd by such discreet applause:
And yet, of credit it lays in a store,

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!
So sweet is that one crime they don't pursue
To pay its loss, they think all others few.

Who hold that crime so dear, must never claim
Of injur'd modesty the sacred name.

But Clio thus: "What! railing without end? Mean task! how much more generous to commend!"

Yes, to commend as you are wont to do,
My kind instructor, and example too.
Daphnis," says Clio, “has a charming eye:
What pity 'tis her shoulder is awry!
Aspasia's shape indeed-But then her air-
The man has parts who finds destruction there.
Almeria's wit has something that's divine;
And wit's enough-how few in all things shine!
Selina serves her friends, relieves the poor-
Who was it said Selina's near threescore?
At Lucia's match I from my soul rejoice;
The world congratulates so wise a choice;
His lordship's rent-roll is exceeding great-
But mortgages will sap the best estate.
In Shirley's form might cherubims appear;
But then she has a freckle on her ear."
Without a but, Hortensia she commends,
The first of women, and the best of friends;
Owns her in person, wit, fame, virtue bright;
But how comes this to pass ?-She died last night.
Thus nymphs commend, who yet at Satire rail:
Indeed that's needless, if such praise prevail.
And whence such praise? Our virulence is thrown
On others' fame, through fondness for our own.

Of rank and riches proud, Cleora frowns;
For are not coronets akin to crowns?
Her greedy eye, and her sublime address,
The height of avarice and pride confess.
You seek perfections worthy of her rank;
Go, seek for her perfections at the Bank.
By wealth unquench'd, by reason uncontroll'd,
For ever burns her sacred thirst of gold.
As fond of five-pence, as the veriest cit;
And quite as much detested as a wit.

Can gold calm passion, or make reason shine?
Can we dig peace, or wisdom, from the mine?
Wisdom to gold prefer; for 'tis much less
To make our fortune, than our happiness.
That happiness which great ones often see,
With rage and wonder, in a low degree;
Themselves unblest. The poor are only poor!
But what are they who droop amid their store!
Nothing is meaner than a wretch of state;
The happy only are the truly great.
Peasants enjoy like appetites with kings;
And those best satisfied with cheapest things.
Could both our Indies buy but one new sense,
Our envy would be due to large expense.
Since not, those pomps which to the great belong,
Are but poor arts to mark them from the throng.
See how they beg an alms of flattery!
They languish! oh support them with a lie!
A decent competence we fully taste;

It strikes our sense, and gives a constant feast:
More, we perceive by dint of thought alone;
The rich must labor to possess their own,
To feel their great abundance; and request
Their humble friends to help them to be blest;
To see their treasures, hear their glory told,
And aid the wretched impotence of gold.

But some, great souls! and touch'd with warmth
divine,

Give gold a price, and teach its beams to shine.
All hoarded treasures they repute a load;

Nor think their wealth their own, till well bestow'd.

Grand reservoirs of public happiness,
Through secret streams diffusively they bless,
And, while their bounties glide, conceal'd from view
Relieve our wants, and spare our blushes too.
But Satire is my task; and these destroy
Her gloomy province, and malignant joy.
Help me, ye misers! help me to complain,
And blast our common enemy, Germain :
But our invectives must despair success ;
For, next to praise, she values nothing less.

What picture's yonder, loosen'd from its frame?
Or is 't Asturia, that affected dame ?
The brightest forms, through affectation, fade
To strange new things, which Nature never made.
Frown not, ye fair! so much your sex we prize,
We hate those arts that take you from our eyes.
In Albucinda's native grace is seen
What you, who labor at perfection, mean.
Short is the rule, and to be learnt with ease,
Retain your gentle selves, and you must please
Here might I sing of Memmia's mincing mien,
And all the movements of the soft machine:
How two red lips affected Zephyrs blow,
To cool the bohea, and inflame the beau:
While one white finger and a thumb conspire
To lift the cup, and make the world admire.

Tea! how I tremble at thy fatal stream!
As Lethe, dreadful to the Love of Fame.
What devastations on thy banks are seen!
What shades of mighty names which once have been
A hecatomb of characters supplies
Thy painted altars' daily sacrifice.

H—, P———, B—, aspers'd by thee, decay,
As grains of finest sugars melt away,
And recommend thee more to mortal taste;
Scandal's the sweetener of a female feast.

But this inhuman triumph shall decline,
And thy revolting Naiads call for wine;
Spirits no longer shall serve under thee;
But reign in thy own cup, exploded tea!
Citronia's nose declares thy ruin nigh,
And who dares give Citronia's nose the lie?

The ladies long at men of drink exclaim'd,
And what impair'd both health and virtue, blam'd
At length, to rescue man, the generous lass
Stole from her consort the pernicious glass;
As glorious as the British queen renown'd,
Who suck'd the poison from her husband's wound
Nor to the glass alone are nymphs inclin'd,
But every bolder vice of bold mankind.
O Juvenal! for thy severer rage!

To lash the ranker follies of our age.

Are there, among the females of our isle,
Such faults, at which it is a fault to smile?
There are. Vice, once by modest Nature chain'd
And legal ties, expatiates unrestrain'd;
Without thin decency held up to view,
Naked she stalks o'er Law and Gospel too.
Our matrons lead such exemplary lives,
Men sigh in vain for none but for their wives;
Who marry to be free, to range the more,
And wed one man, to wanton with a score.
Abroad too kind, at home 'tis stedfast hate,
And one eternal tempest of debate.
What foul eruptions, from a look most meek!
What thunders bursting, from a dimpled cheek!
Their passions bear it with a lofty hand!
But then, their reason is at due command.
Is there whom you detest, and seek his life?
Trust no soul with the secret-but his wife.

Wires wonder that their conduct I condemn,
And ask, what kindred is a spouse to them?
What swarms of amorous grandmothers I see!
And misses, ancient in iniquity!

What blasting whispers, and what loud declaiming
What lying, drinking, bawding, swearing, gaming!
Friendship so enid, such warm incontinence:
Such griping avarice, such profuse expense;
Such dead devotion, such a zeal for erimes;
Such licens'd til, such masquerading times;
Such venal faith, such misapplied applause;
Such flatter'd guilt, and such inverted laws!
Such dissolution through the whole I find,
'Tis not a world, but chaos of mankind.
Since Sundays have no hails, the weil-dress'd helle
Shines in the pew, but smiles to hear of Hell :
And casts an eye of sweet disdain on all
Who listen less to Collins than St. Paul.
Atheists have been but rare; since Nature's birth,
Till now, she-atheists ne'er appear'd on Earth.
Ye men of deep researches, say, whence springs
This daring character, in timorous things!
Who start at feathers, from an insect tly,
A match for nothing but the Deity.
But, not to wrong the fair the Muse must own
In this pursuit they court not fame alone;
But join to that a more mbstantial view,
"From thinking free, to he free agents too."

They strive with their own hearts, and keep them
down.

In complaisance to all the fools in town.
O how they tremble at the name of prude!
And die with shame at thought of being good!
For what will Artimis, the rich and gay,
What will the wits, that is, the coxcombs, say?
They Heaven defy, to Earth's vile dregs a slave;
Through cowardice, most execrably brave.
With our own judgments durst we to comply,
In virtue should we live, in glory die.
Rise then, my Mase, in honest fory rise;
They dread a Satire, who defy the skies.

Atheists are few: most nymphs a Godhead own;)
And nothing but his attributes dethrone.
From atheists far, they stedfastly believe
God is, and is Almighty-to forgive.
His other excellence they'll not dispute;
Bat mercy, sure, is his chief attribute.
Shall pleasures of a short duration chain
A lady's soul in everlasting pain!
Will the great Author us poor worms destroy,
For now and then a sip of transient joy!
No, he's for ever in a smiling mood;
He's like themselves; or how could he be good!
And they blaspheme, who blacker schemes suppose.
Devoutly, thus, Jehovah they depose,
The pure! the just! and set up, in his stead,
A deity, that's perfectly well-bred.

"Dear Tillotson! be sure the best of men;
Nor thought he more, than thought great Origen.
Though once upon a time he misbehav'd;
Poor Satan! doubtless, he'll at length be sav'd.
Let priests do something for their one in ten;
It is their trade; so far they're honest men.
Let them cant on, since they have got the knack,
And dress their notions, like themselves, in black;
Fright us with terrors of a world unknown,
From joys of this, to keep them all their own.
Of Earth's fair fruits, indeed, they claim a fee;
But then they leave our untith'd virtue free.

Virtue's a pretty thing to make a show-
Did ever mortal write like Rouchetoneault?"
Thus pleads the Devil's fair apologist,
And, pleading, sately enters on his ust.

Let angel-torms angelic truths maintain;
Nature disjoins the beauteous and profane.
For what's true beauty, but fair virtue's face?
Virtue made visible in outward grace?
She, then, that's haunted with an impious mind.
The more she charms, the more she shocks mankind
But charms decline: the fair long vigiis keep:
They sleep no more! Quadrile has murder'd sleep.*
Poor K-p" cries Livia; "I have not been there
These two nights, the poor creature will despai
I hate a crowd—but to do good, you know—
And people of condition should bestow."
Convinc'd, o'ercome, to K—p's grave matrons ru
Now set a daughter, and now stake a son;
Let health, fame, temper, beauty, fortune. đy;
And beggar half their race-through charity.
Immortal were we, or else mortai quite,
'I less should blame this criminal delight:
But since the gay assembly's gayest room
Is but an upper story to some tomb.
Methinks, we need not our short being shun.
And, thought to fly, contend to be undone.
We need not buy our ruin with our crime;
And give eternity to murder time.

The love of gaming is the worst of ills;
With ceaseless storms the blacken'd soul it fills;
Inveighs at Heaven, neglects the ties of blood;
Destroys the power and will of doing good;
Kilis health, pawns honor, plunges in disgrace.
And, what is still more dreadful-spoils your face
See yonder set of thieves that live on spoil,
The scandal and the ruin of our isle!
And see (strange sight, amid that ruffian band,
A form divine high wave her snowy hand;
That rattles loud a small enchanted box.
Which, loud as thunder, on the board she knocks.
And as fierce storms, which Earth's foundation
shook,

From Eolus's cave impetuous broke,
From this small cavern a mix'd tempest flies,
Fear, rage, convulsion, tears, oaths, blasphemies!
For men, I mean the fair discharges none;
She (guiltless creature!) swears to Heaven alone.
See her eyes start! cheeks glow! and muscles
swell!

Like the mad maid in the Camean cell.
Thus that divine one her soft nights employs!
Thus tunes her soul to tender nuptial joys!
And when the cruel morning calls to bed,
And on her pillow lays her aching head,
With the dear images her dreams are crown'd,
The die spins lovely, or the cards go round;
Imaginary ruin charms her still;
Her happy lord is cuckol'd by spadille :
And if she's brought to bed, 'tis ten to one,
He marks the forehead of her darling son.

O scene of horror, and of wild despair,
Why is the rich Atrides' splendid heir
Constrain'd to quit his ancient lordly seat,
And hide his glories in a mean retreat?
Why that drawn sword? and whence that disma
cry!

Why pale distraction through the family?

* Shakspeare.