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Infipid, servile thing! whom I disdain ! “ Her phlegm can best support the marriage chain. « Damon is practis’d 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. ** Mistress and wife by turns fupply his need ; " A miss for pleasure, and a wife for breed. e Powder'd with diamonds, free from fpleen or care, - She can a sullen husband's humour bear ; “ Her credulous friendship, and her stupid ease, “ Have often been my jeft in happier days : • Now Cloe boasts and triumphs in my pains ; " To her he's faithful; 'tis to me he feigns. “ Am I that stupid thing to bear neglect, - And force a smile, not daring to suspect ? “ No, perjur'd man! a wife may
be content, * But you shall find a mistress can refent."
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 glofs becomes your face!” She cries in rapture; “then, so sweet a lace! “ How charmingly you look! fo 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
Thus breath'd the anguish of a wounded mind;
• 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 mot 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,
• With what contempt ye saw me oft despise
For me the Patriot has the house forsook,
• As round the room I tarn my weeping eyes, • New unaffected scenes of forrow rise. • Far from my fight 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 thou, 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 fcarlet best became my face ;
"Now on some happier nymph your aid bestow ;
• Ye meaner beauties, I permit ye shine ;
'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 unseen : • But oh, how vain, how. wretched is the boalt
Of beauty faded, and of empire loft ! • What now is left but weeping, to deplore • My beauty fled, and empire now no more?
• Ye cruel chymists, what with-held your aid ! • Could no pomatums save a trembling maid ? • How false and trilling is that art ye boast ! • No art can give me back my beauty loit.
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
officious SQUIRT was there, With fruitless grief and unavailing care: • Machaon too, the great MACHAon, known By his red cloak and his superior frown;
. In tears,
• 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 rule 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 nó 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 !