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, 264 O-Oh! save my country, Heav'n!" shall be your last. TO A LADY. Of the Characters of Women. Nothing so true as what you once let fall, and best distinguish'd by black, brown, or fair. here Fannia, leering on her own good man, with simp'ring angels, palms, and harps divine, 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; chuse a firm cloud before it fall, and in it 5 10 15 catch, ere she change, the Cynthia of this minute. 20 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 diamonds with her dirty smock, or Sappho at her toilette's greasy task the frail one's advocate, the weak one's friend: Papillia, wedded to her am'rous spark, 't is to their changes half their charms we owe: to make a wash would hardly stew a child, 25 30 35 41 45 50 55 Why then declare good natnre, isher scorn, when 't is by that alone she can be borne? Why pique all mortals, yet affect a name, a fool to pleasure, yet a slave to fame? 60 66 Now deep in Taylor and the book of Martyrs, she sins with poets through pure love of wit. 70 75 the nose of haut-goût, and the tip of taste, 80 critiqu'd your wine, and analyz'd your meat, yet on plain pudding deign'd at home to eat; so Philomedé, lect'ring all mankind on the soft passion, and the taste refin'd, th' address, the delicacy---stoops at once, and makes her hearty meal upon á dunce. 85 Flavia's a wit, has too much sense to pray: to toast our wants and wishes is her way; nor asks of God, but of her stars, to give the mighty blessing" while we live to live," Then all for death, that opiate of the soul ! Lucretia's dagger, Rosamonda's bowl. 90 Say, what can cause such impotence of mind? a spark too fickle, or a spouse too kind. Wise wretch! with pleasures too refin'd to please: with too much spirit to be e'er at ease; with too much quickness ever to be taught; with too much thinking to have common thought; you purchase pain with all that joy can give, and die of nothing but a rage to live. Turn then from wits, and look on Simo's mate; no ass so meek, no ass so obstinate; or her that owns her faults but never mends, because she's honest and the best of friends; 96 100 or her whose life the church and scandal share, 105 for ever in a passion or a pray'r; or her who laughs at hell, but (like her Grace) cries, "Ah! how charming, if there's no such place!" or who in sweet vicissitude appears of mirth and opium, ratafie and tears, to kill those foes to fair-ones, time and thought. But what are these to great Atossa's mind? no passion gratify'd, except her rage 110 115 120 125 so much the fury still out-ran the wit, the pleasure miss'd her, and the scandal bit. Who breaks with her, provokes revenge from hell, but he's a bolder man who dares be well. Her ev'ry turn with violence pursu❜d, 130 135 140 145 to heirs unknown descends the unguarded store, or wanders, Heaven directed, to the poor. Pictures like these, dear Madam! to design, asks no firm hand and no unerring line; some wand'ring touches, some reflected light, some flying stroke, alone can hit them right: for how should equal colours do the knack? Chameleons who can paint in white and black? "Yet Chloe sure was form'd without a spot ;" nature in her then err'd not, but forgot. With ev'ry pleasing, ev'ry prudent part, "say, what can Chloe want ?"---She wants a heart. 150 155 |