HE Baffet-Table spread, the Tallier come; Why stays Smilinda in the Dreffing-room? Rife, penfive Nymph; the Tallier waits for you.
Ah, Madam, fince my Sharper is untrue,
I joyless make my once ador'd Alpheu.
I faw him ftand behind Ombrelia's Chair,
And whisper with that foft, deluding air,
And thofe feign'd fighs which cheat the listening
Is this the cause of your romantic strains?
A mightier grief my heavy heart sustains.
As You by Love, fo I by Fortune cross'd;
One, one bad Deal, Three Septlevas have lost.
Is that the grief, which you compare with mine?
With ease, the smiles of Fortune I refign:
Would all my gold in one bad Deal were gone;
Were lovely Sharper mine, and mine alone.
A lover loft, is but a common care;
And prudent Nymphs against that change prepare:
The Knave of Clubs thrice loft: Oh! who could guess
This fatal stroke, this unforeseen Distress?
See Betty Lovet! very à propos,
She all the cares of Love and Play does know :
Dear Betty shall th' important point decide;
Betty, who oft the pain of each has try'd;
Impartial, fhe fhall fay who fuffers most,
By Cards, Ill-Ufage, or by Lovers loft.
Tell, tell your griefs; attentive will I stay, Though time is precious, and I want fome Tea.
Behold this Equipage, by Mathers wrought,
With Fifty Guineas (a great Pen'worth) bought.
See, on the Tooth-pick, Mars and Cupid strive;
And both the struggling figures feem alive.
Upon the bottom fhines the Queen's bright Face;
A Myrtle Foliage round the Thimble-case;
Jove, Jove himself does on the Sciffars shine;
The Metal, and the Workmanship, divine!
This Snuff-box,-once the pledge of Sharper's love, When rival beauties for the Present ftrove;
At Corticelli's he the Raffle won;
Then firft his Paffion was in public shown:
Hazardia blush'd, and turn'd her head afide,
A Rival's envy (all in vain) to hide.
Z3
This Snuff-box,-on the Hinge fee Brilliants fhine:
This Snuff-box will I ftake; the Prize is mine.
Alas! far leffer losses than I bear,
Have made a Soldier figh, a Lover swear.
And oh what makes the difappointment hard,
'Twas my own Lord that drew the fatal Card.
In Complaifance, I took the Queen he gave;
Though my own secret wish was for the Knave.
The Knave won Sonica, which I had chose;
And the next Pull, my Septleva I lose.
SMILINDA.
But ah! what aggravates the killing smart,
The cruel thought, that ftabs me to the heart;
This curs'd Ombrelia, this undoing Fair,
By whofe vile arts this heavy grief I bear;
She, at whose name I shed these spiteful tears,
She owes to me the very charms she wears.
An awkward Thing, when first she came to Town;
Her Shape unfashion'd, and her Face unknown:
She was my friend; I taught her first to spread
Upon her fallow cheeks enlivening red:
I introduc'd her to the Park and Plays;
And by my intereft, Cozens made her Stays.
Ungrateful wretch, with mimic airs grown pert,
She dares to steal my Favourite Lover's heart,
Wretch that I was, how often have I swore,
When Winnall tally'd, I would punt no more!
I know the Bite, yet to my Ruin run;
And fee the Folly, which I cannot fhun.
How many Maids have Sharper's vows decefv'd! How many curs'd the moment they believ'd! Yet his known Falfehoods could no Warning prove: Ah! what is Warning to a Maid in Love ?
But of what marble must that breast be form'd,
To gaze on Baffet, and remain unwarm'd?
When Kings, Queens, Knaves, are fet in decent rank
Expos'd in glorious heaps the tempting Bank,
Guineas, Half-guineas, all the shining train ;
The Winner's pleasure, and the Lofer's pain:
In bright Confusion open Rouleaus lie,
They strike the Soul, and glitter in the Eye.
Fir'd by the fight, all reason I disdain;
My Paffions rife, and will not bear the rein,
Look upon Baffet, you who reason boast;
And fee if reason must not there be loft.
SMILINDA.
What more than marble must that heart compose,
Can hearken coldly to my Sharper's Vows?
Then, when he trembles! when his Blushes rife!
When awful Love feems melting in his Eyes!
With eager beats his Mechlin Cravat moves :
He loves,-I whisper to myself, he loves!
Such unfeign'd Paffion in his looks sappears,
I lofe my Memory of my former Fears
My panting heart confeffes all his charms,
I yield at once, and fink into his arms.
Z 4
Think of that moment, you who Prudence boaft;
For fuch a moment, Prudence well were loft.
At the Groom-Porter's, batter'd Bullies play, Some Dukes at Marybone bowl Time away. But who the Bowl, or rattling Dice compares To Baffet's heavenly Joys, and pleasing Cares?
Soft Simplicetta doats upon a Beau; Prudina likes a Man, and laughs at Show. Their feveral graces in my Sharper meet; Strong as the Footman, as the Master sweet.
Cease your contention, which has been too long;
I grow impatient, and the Tea's too strong.
Attend, and yield to what I now decide;
The Equipage fhall grace Smilinda's Side:
The Snuff-box to Cardelia I decree,
Now leave complaining, and begin your Tea.
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