But since, alas! frail beauty must decay; Curl'd or uncurl'd, since locks will turn to gray; Since painted, or not painted, all shall fade, And she who scorns a man must die a maid; What then remains, but well our pow'r to use, And keep good humour still whate'er we lose? And trust me, dear! good humour can prevail, When airs, and flights, and screams, and scolding fail. Beauties in vain their pretty eyes may roll; Charms strike the sight, but merit wins the soul.' Fans clap, silks rustle, and tough whalebones crack; Heroes' and heroines' shouts confus'dly rise, Jove's thunder roars, heav'n trembles all around, Triumphant Umbriel, on a sconce's height, The growing combat, or assist the fray. While through the press enrag'd Thalestris flies, Th' expiring swan, and as he sings he dies. When bold Sir Plume had drawn Clarissa down, Chloe stepp'd in, and kill'd him with a frown; She smil'd to see the doughty hero slain, Now Jove suspends his golden scales in air, The doubtful beam long nods from side to side; At length the wits mount up, the hairs subside. See fierce Belinda on the Baron flies, With more than usual lightning in her eyes: Nor fear'd the chief th' unequal fight to try, Who sought no more than on his foe to die. But this bold lord, with manly strength endu'd, She with one finger and a thumb subdu'd: Just where the breath of life his nostrils drew, A charge of snuff the wily virgin threw; The gnomes direct, to ev'ry atom just, The pungent grains of titillating dust. Sudden, with starting tears each eye o'erflows, And the high dome re-echoes to his nose. Now meet thy fate,' incens'd Belinda cry'd, And drew a deadly bodkin from her side. (The same, his ancient personage to deck, Her great-great-grandsire wore about his neck, Thou by some other shalt be laid as low. 'Restore the lock!' she cries; and all around Restore the lock!' the vaulted roofs rebound. |