Some god or spirit he has lately found,
Or chanc'd to meet a minister that frown'd.
Judge we by nature? habit can efface,
Interest o'ercome, or policy take place:
By actions? those uncertainty divides;
By passions? these dissimulation hides:
Opinions! they still take a wider range.
Find, if you can, in what you cannot change.
Manners with fortunes, humours turn with climes,
Tenets with books, and principles with times.

PART III.

SEARCH then the ruling passion; there, alone,

The wild are constant, and the cunning known;
The fool consistent and the false sincere ;
Priests, princes, women, no dissemblers here.
This clue once found unravels all the rest,
The prospect clears, and Wharton stands confest,
Wharton! the scorn and wonder of our days,
Whose ruling passion was the lust of praise;
Born with whate'er could win it from the wise,
Women and fools must like him, or he dies;
Though wondering senates hung on all he spoke,
The club must hail him master of the joke.
Shall parts so various aim at nothing new?
He'll shine a Tully and a Wilmot too :
Then turns repentant, and his God adores
With the same spirit that he drinks and whores;
Enough if all around him but admire,
And now the punk applaud, and now the friar.
Thus with each gift of Nature and of Art,
And wanting nothing but an honest heart;
Grown all to all, from no one vice exempt,
And most contemptible to shun contempt;
His passion still to covet general praise,
His life to forfeit it a thousand ways;

A constant bounty which no friend has made;
An angel tongue, which no man can persuade;

A fool, with more of wit than half mankind,
Too rash for thought, for action too refin'd;
A tyrant to the wife his heart approves :
A rebel to the very king he loves;

He dies, sad outcast of each church and state,
And, harder still! flagitious, yet not great.

Ask you why Wharton broke through every rule?
'Twas all for fear the knaves should call him fool.
Nature well known no prodigies remain,
Comets are regular, and Wharton plain.

Yet in this search the wisest may mistake,
If second qualities for first they take.
When Catiline by rapine swell'd his store,
When Cæsar made a noble dame a whore;
In this the lust, in that the avarice,

Were means, not ends; ambition was the vice.
That very Cæsar, born in Scipio's days,
Had aim'd, like him, by chastity, at praise.
Lucullus, when frugality could charm,
Had roasted turnips in the Sabine farm.
In vain the' observer eyes the builder's toil;
But quite mistakes the scaffold for the pile.
In this one passion man can strength enjoy,
As fits give vigour just when they destroy.
Time, that on all things lays his lenient hand,
Yet tames not this; it sticks to our last sand.
Consistent in our follies and our sins,
Here honest nature ends as she begins.

Old politicians chew on wisdom past,
And totter on in business to the last;
As weak as earnest, and as gravely out
As sober Lanesb'rough dancing in the gout.
Behold a reverend sire, whom want of grace
Has made the father of a nameless race,
Shov'd from the wall perhaps, or rudely press'd,
By his own son, that passes by unbless'd;
Still to his wench he crawls on knocking knees,
And envies every sparrow that he sees.

A salmon's belly, Helluo, was thy fate; The doctor call'd, declares all help too late :

"Mercy!” cries Helluo, " mercy on my soul! "Is there no hope?-Alas!-then bring the jowl." The frugal Crone, whom praying priests attend, Still strives to save the hallow'd taper's end, Collects her breath, as ebbing life retires, For one puff more, and in that puff expires. "Odious! in woollen! 'twould a saint provoke, (Were the last words that poor Narcissa spoke !) No, let a charming chintz and Brussels lace Wrap my cold limbs, and shade my lifeless face: One would not, sure, be frightful when one's deadAnd-Betty-give this cheek a little red."

The courtier smooth, who forty years had shin'd An humble servant to all human kind,

Just brought out this, when scarce his tongue could stir, "If-where I'm going-I could serve you, Sir ?"" "I give and I devise (old Eucho said, And sigh'd) my lands and tenements to Ned." "Your money, Sir ?"-" My money, Sir! what all? Why-if I must-(then wept) I give it Paul!" "The manor, Sir ?"" The manor! hold," he cry'd; "Not that I cannot part with that"-and dy'd. And you, brave Cobham! to the latest breath Shall feel your ruling passion strong in death; Such in those moments as in all the past,

"O! save my country, Heav'n!" shall be your last.

To a Lady.

ARGUMENT.

That the particular characters of women are not so strongly marked as those of men, seldom so fixed, and still more inconsistent with themselves. Instances of contrarieties, given even from such characters as are most strongly marked, and seemingly, therefore, most consistent; as, --1. In the affected.-2. In the soft-natured.-3. In the cunning and artful.-4. In the whimsical.-5. In the lewd and vicious.-6. In the witty and refined.--7. In the stupid and simple. The former part having shewn that the particular characters of women are more various than those of men, it is nevertheless observed, that the general characteristic of the sex, as to the ruling passion, is more uniform. This is occasioned partly by their nature, partly by their education, and in some degree by necessity. What are the aims and the fate of this sex:-1. As to power.-2. As to pleasure. Advice for their true interest. The picture of an esti mable woman with the best kind of contrarieties.

NOTHING so true as what you once let fall,

"Most women have no characters at all:" Matter too soft a lasting mark to bear,

And best distinguish'd by black, brown, or fair.
How many pictures of one nymph we view,
All how unlike each other, all how true!
Arcadia's Countess here, in ermin'd pride,
Is there Pastora by a fountain side:
Here Fannia, leering on her own good man,
And there, a naked Leda with a swan.
Let then the fair-one beautifully cry,
In Magdalene's loose hair and lifted eye,
Or dress'd in smiles of sweet Cecilia shine,
With simpering angels, palms, and harps divine;
Whether the charmer sinner it or saint it,

If folly grow romantic I must paint it.

Come then, the colours and the ground prepare! Dip in the rainbow, trick her off in air;

G

Chuse a firm cloud before it fall, and in it
Catch, ere she change, the Cynthia of this minute.
Rufa, whose eye quick glancing o'er the Park,
Attracts each light gay meteor of a spark,
Agrees as ill with Rufa studying Locke,
As Sappho's di'monds with her dirty smock;
Or Sappho at her toilette's greasy task,
With Sappho fragrant at an evening mask:
So morning insects, that in muck begun,
Shine, buzz, and fly-blow in the setting-sun.
How soft is Silia! fearful to offend;

The frail one's advocate, the weak one's friend :
To her Calista prov'd her conduct nice,
And good Simplicius asks of her advice.
Sudden she storms! she raves! you tip the wink;
But spare your censure; Silia does not drink.
All eyes may see from what the change arose ;
All eyes may see-a pimple on her nose.
Papillia, wedded to her amorous spark,

Sighs for the shades-" How charming is a park!"
A park is purchas'd, but the fair he sees
All bath'd in tears-" Oh, odious, odious trees!"
Ladies like variegated tulips show;

Tis to their changes, half their charms we owe :
Fine by defect, and delicately weak,

Their happy spots the nice admirer take.
"Twas thus Calypso once each heart alarm'd,
Aw'd without virtue, without beauty charm'd;
Her tongue bewitch'd as oddly as her eyes;
Less wit than mimic, more a wit than wise :
Strange graces still, and stranger flights, she had;
Was just not ugly, and was just not mad;
Yet ne'er so sure our passion to create

As when she touch'd the brink of all we hate.
Narcissa's nature, tolerable mild,

To make a wash would hardly stew a child;
Has ev'n been prov'd to grant a lover's prayer,
And paid a tradesman once to make him stare;
Gave alms at Easter in a Christian trim,
And made a widow happy for a whim.