Upon the bottom shines the Queen's bright face;
A myrtle foliage round the thimble-cafe.
Jove, Jove himself, does on the scissars shine,
The metal and the workmanship divine-

35

Smil. This fouff-box-once the pledge of Sharper's

When rival beauties for the present strove;
At Corticelli's he the raffle won;
Then first his paffion was in public shown:
Hazardia blush'd, and turn'd her head afide,
A rival's envy (all in vain) to hide.
This inuff-box-on the hinge fee brilliants shine,
This fnuff-box will I stake the prize is mine.

Card. Alas! far lesser loffes than I bear

1

[love,

40

45

Have made a foldier figh, a lover swear.
And, oh! what makes the disappointment hard,
'Twas my own lord that drew the fatal card.
In complaisance I took the queen he gave,
Tho' my own fecret with was for the knave:
The knave won Sonica, which I had chose,
And the next pull my Septleva I lofe.

50

Smil. But, ah! what aggravates the killing smart,

The cruel thought that stabs me to the heart;
This curs'd Ombrelia, this undoing fair,
By whose 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

55

60

Upon her fallow cheeks enliv'ning red;

I introduc'd her to the Park and plays,
And by my int'reft Cozens made her stays.
Ungrateful wretch! with mimic airs grown pert, 65
She dares to steal my fav'rite lover's heart.

Card. Wretch that I was, how often have I fwore

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 shun.

70

Smil. How many maids have Sharper's vows de

How many curs'd the moment they believ'd? [ceiv'd?

Yet

Yet his known falsehoods could no warning prove; Ah! what is warning to a maid in love.

74

Card. But of what marble must that breast be form'd, To gaze on Basset and remain unwarm'd? When kings, queens, knaves, are set in decent rank, Expos'd in glorious heaps the tempting bank, Guineas, half- guineas, all the shining train, The winner's pleasure, and the loser's pain, In bright confufion open rouleaus lie, They ftrike the foul, and glitter in the eye: Fir'd by the fight, all reason I difdain, My paffions rife, and will not bear the rein. Look upon Baffet, you who reason boaft, And fee if reason must not there be loft.

80

85

Smil. What more than marble must that heart com

Can hearken coldly to my Sharper's vows?
Then when he trenibles! when his blushes rife!
When awful love seems 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 appears,
I lose all mem'ry of my former fears;
My panting heart confefses all his charms;
I yield at once, and fink into his arms.
Think of that moment you who prudence boast;
For fuch a moment prudence well were loft.

[pofe,

१०

95

Card. 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 heav'nly joys and pleasing cares? Smil. Soft Simplicetta dotes upon a beau; Prudina likes a man, and laughs at show: Their several graces in my Sharper's meet, Strong as the footman, as the master sweet.

100

105

Lov. Cease your contention, which has been to long;

I grow impatient, and the tea's too strong.
Attend, and yield to what I now decide;
The equipage shall grace Smilinda's fide;
The fnuff box to Cardelia I decree.

Now leave complaining, and begin your tea.

110

VERBATIM FROM BOILEAU.

Un jour, dit un auteur, &c.

ONCE (fays

an author, where I need not fay)

Two trav'llers found an oyster in their way:
Both fierce, both hungry, the dispute grew strong,
While, fcale in hand, Dame Justice pass'da along.
Before her each with clamour pleads the laws,
Explain'd the matter, and would win the cause.
Dame Justice weighing long the doubtful right,
Takes, opens, fwallows it before their fight.
The cause of strife remov'd so rarely well,
There take, (says Justice,) take ye each a shell.
We thrive at Westminster on fools like you:
'Twas a fat oyster-live in peace-Adieu.

Answer to the following Question of Mrs. Howe.

WHAT is prud'ry?

a beldam,

Seen with wit and beauty seldom.
'Tis a fear that starts at shadows;
'Tis (no, 'tis n't) like Miss Meadows;

'Tis a virgin hard of feature,

Old, and void of all good nature;
Lean and fretful; would feem wife,

5

10

12

S

Yet plays the fool before the dies. 'Tis an ugly envious shrew

That rails at dear Lepell and you.

MUSE, 'tis enough, at

Occafioned by some Verses of his Grace

the Duke of Buckingham.

length thy labour ends,

10

And thou shalt live, for Buckingham commends.

Let crowds of critics now my verse assail,
Let Dennis write, and nameless numbers rail;
This more than pays whole years of thankless pain;
Time, health, and fortune, are not lost in vain.
Sheffield approves, consenting Phœbus bends,
And I and Malice from this hour are friends.

4

8

A Prologue by Mr. Pope, to a Play for Mr. Dennis's Benefit, in 1733, when he was old, blind, and in great Distress, a little before bis Death.

AS when that hero, who, in each campaign,

Had brav'd the Goth, and many a Vandal flain, Lay Fortune struck, a spectacle of woe! Wept by each friend, forgiv'n by ev'ry foe;

Was there a gen'rous, a reflecting mind,
But pity'd Belifarius, old and blind?

5

Was there a chief but melted at the fight?
A common foldier, but who club'd his mite?
Such, such emotions should in Britons rise,
When press'd by want and weakness Dennis lies; to
Dennis, who long had warr'd with modern Huns,
Their quibbles routed, and defy'd their puns;
A defp'rate bulwark, sturdy, firm, and fierce,
Against the Gothic fons of frozen verse:
How chang'd from him who made the boxes groan,
And shook the stage with thunders all his own!
Stood up to dash each vain pretender's hope,
Maul the French tyrant, or pull down the Pope!
If there's a Briton then, true bred and born,
Who holds dragoons and wooden shoes in fcorn;

16

20

If there's a critic of diftinguish'd rage,
If there's a senior who contemns this age,

Let him to night his just assistance lend,

And be the critic's, Briton's, old man's, friend. 24

MACER.

A CHARACTER,

WHEN fimple Macer, now of high renown,
First sought a poet's fortune in the Town,
'Twas all th' ambition his high foul could feel
To wear red stockings, and to dine with Steele :
Some ends of verse his betters might afford,
And gave the harmless fellow a good word.
Set up with these he ventur'd on the Town,
And with a borrow'd play cutdid poor Crown.

There

5

There he stop'd short, nor fince has writ a tittle,
But has the wit to make the most of little;
Like stunted hide-bound trees, that just have got
Sufficient fap at once to bear and rot.
Now he begs verse, and what he gets commends,
Not of the wits his foes, but fools his friends.

10

So fome coarfe country-wench, almost decay'd, 15 Trudges to Town, and first turns chambermaid; Awkward and fupple each devoir to pay, She flatters her good lady twice a-day; Thought wondrous honest, tho' of mean degree,

And strangely lik'd for her fimplicity:
In a translated fuit then tries the Town,
With borrow'd pins, and patches not her own;

20

But just endur'd the winter she began,

And in four months a batter'd harridan:

Now nothing left, but wither'd, pale, and shrunk,
To bawd for others, and go shares with punk.

26

SONG,

BY A PERSON OF QUALITY.

Written in the Year 1733.

I.

FLUTT'RING spread thy purple pinions,

Gentle Cupid! o'er my heart;

I a flave in thy dominions:
Nature must give way to Art.

II.

Mild Arcadians, ever blooming,
Nightly nodding o'er your flocks,
See my weary days confuming
All beneath yon' flow'ry rocks.

III.

Thus the Cyprian goddess weeping,
Mourn'd Adonis, darling youth!
Him the boar, in filence creeping,
Gor'd with unrelenting tooth.

5

10

IV. Cynthiat