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Infipid, servile thing! whom I disdain! “ Her phlegm can best support the marriage chain. Damon is practis' in the modifh life; “ Can hate, and yet be civil to his wife ; « He games, he drinks, he swears, he fights, he roves ; " Yet Cloe can believe he fondly loves. 66 Mistress and wife by turns fupply his need ; “ A miss for pleasure, and a wife for breed. in Powder'd with diamonds, free from fpleen or care, " She can a sullen husband's humour bear ; « Her credulous friendship, and her stupid case, « Have often been my jeft in happier days :

Now Cloe boasts and triumphs in my pains ; 6. To her he's faithful ; 'tis to me he feigns. Am I that stupid thing to bear neglect, 6 And force a smile, not daring to suspect ? No, perjur'd man! a wife may

be content, " But you shall find a mistress can resent.”

Thus love-fick Lydia rav'd; her maid appears, And in her faithful hand the band-box-bears ; (The Cestos that reform'd inconftant Jove Not better fill'd with what allur'd to love) “ How well this ribband's gloss becomes your face!" She cries in rapture; “then, so sweet a lace! How charmingly you look! so bright! so fair! 'Tis to your eyes the head-dress owes its air !" Strait LYDIA smil'd; the comb adjusts her locks; And at the play-house, HARRY keeps her box. 3

SATUR

SATURDAY,

The SMALL-Pox,

T

FLAVIA.
HE wretched FLAVIA on her couch reclin'd,

Thus breath'd the anguish of a wounded mind;
A glass revers'd in her right hand she bore,
For now she shun’d the face she fought before.

• How am I chang'd! alas ! how am I grown • A frightful spectre, to myself unknown ! • Where's my complexion ? where my radiant bloom, • That promis'd happiness for years to come ? • Then with what pleasure I this face survey'd ! To look once more, my visits oft delay'd ! • Charm'd with the view, a fresher red would rise, • And a new life thot sparkling from my eyes !

• Ah! faithless glass, my wonted bloom restore; • Alas ! I rave, that bloom is now no more. • The greatest good the gods on men bestow, • Ev’n youth itself to me is useless now, • There was a time (oh! that I cou'd forget!) • When opera-tickets pour'd before my feet; • And at the ring, where brightest beauties shine, • The earliest cherries of the spring were mine. • Witness, O Lilly; and thou, Motteux, tell,

How much japan these eyes have made ye sell.

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• With what contempt ye saw me oft despise
· The humble offer of the raffled prize;
• For at the raffle still each prize I bore,
• With scorn rejected, or with triumph wore.
• Now beauty's filed, and presents are no more!

* For me the Patriot has the house forsook,
• And left debates to catch a passing look:
« For me the Soldier has soft verses writ :

For me the Beau has aim'd to be a wit. • For me the Wit to nonsense was betray'd ; • The Gamefter has for me his dun delay'd, • And overseen the card he would have play'd. « The bold and haughty by success made vain, • Aw'd by my eyes, have trembled to complain : • The bashful 'Squire touch'd by a wish unknown, • Has dar'd to speak with spirit not his own : « Fir’d by one wish, all did alike adore ; • Now beauty's fed, and lovers are no more!

• As round the room I tarn my weeping eyes, • New unaffected scenes of sorrow rise. · Far from my sight that killing picture bear, • The face disfigure, and the canvas tear : • That picture, which with pride I us'd to show, • The loft resemblance but upbraids me now. . And thoų, my toilette, where I oft have fate, • While hours unheeded pass'd in deep debate, • How curls should fall, or where a patch to place; • If blue or scarlet best became my face ;

« Now

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"Now on some happier nymph your aid bestow ;
« On fairer heads, ye useless jewels, glow;
• No borrow'd lustre can my charms restore ;
• Beauty is fled, and dress is now no more.

• Ye meaner beauties, I permit ye shine ; • Go, triumph in the hearts that once were mine ; • But, 'midst your triumphs with confusion know,

'Tis to my ruin all your arms ye owe. • Wou'd pitying heav'n restore my wonted mien, Ye ftill might move unthought of and unfeen : • But oh, how vain, how, wretched is the beast • Of beauty faded, and of empire loft! • What now is left but weeping, to deplore My beauty Aed, and empire now no more?

• Ye cruel chymists, what with-held your aid ! • Could no pomatums save a trembling maid ? • How false and trifling is that art ye boast ! • No art can give me back my beauty loft.

In- tears, surrounded by my friends I lay, Mask'd o'er, and trembled at the fight of day; • MIRMILLIO came my fortune to deplore, (A golden-headed cane well carv'd he bore) • Cordials, he cry'd, my spirits must restore ! Beauty is filed, and spirit is no more!

« Galen, the grave; officious SQUIRT was there, • With fruitless grief and unavailing care : MACHAON too, the great MACHaon, known . By his red cloak and his superior frown;

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• And why, he cry'd, this grief and this despair,
• You shall again be well, again be fair ;
** Believe my oath ; (with that an oath he swore)'
« False was his oath ; my beauty is no more !

« Cease, hapless maid, no more thy tale pursue, - Forsake mankind, and bid the world adieu ! • Monarchs and beauties rale with equal fway; • All strive to serve, and glory to obey : • Alike unpitied when depos’d they grow « Men mock the idol of their former vow.

« Adieu ! ye parks !-in fome obscure recess, - Where gentle streams will weep at my distress,

Where no false friend will in my grief take part,
• And mourn my ruin with a joyful heart;
- There let me live in some deserted place,
• There hide in shades this loft inglorious face,

Plays, operas, circles, I no more must view!
My toilette, patches, all the world adieu !

The

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