T length, by much importunity prefs'd,
Také, C, at once the infide of my breast.
This ftupid indiff'rence fo often you blame,
Is not owing to nature, to fear, or to shame.
I am not as cold as a virgin in lead,
Nor is Sunday's fermon fo ftrong in my head:
I know but too well how time flies along,
That we live but few years, and yet fewer are young.
But I hate to be cheated, and never will buy
Long years of repentance for moments of joy.]-
Oh! was there a man (but where shall I find
Good fenfe and good-nature fo equally join'd ?)
Would value his pleasure, contribute to mine;
Not meanly would boaft, nor lewdly defign,
Not over fevere, yet not ftupidly vain,
For I would have the power, tho' not give the pain.
No pedant, yet learned; nor rake-helly gay,
Or laughing because he has nothing to say;
To all my whole sex, obliging and free,
Yet never be fond of any but me;
In public preserve the decorum that's juft,
And fhew in his eyes he is true to his trust;
Then rarely approach, and respectfully bow,
But not fulfomely pert, nor fopishly low.
But when the long hours of publick are past,
And we meet with champagne and a chicken at last,
May ev'ry fond pleasure that moment endear;
Be banish'd afar both difcretion and fear!
Forgetting or fcorning the airs of the crowd,
cease to be formal, and I to be proud,
Till loft in the joy, we confess that we live,
And he may be rude, and yet I may forgive.
V.
And that my delight may be solidly fix'd,
Let the friend and the lover be handfomely mix'd,
In whofe tender bofom my foul may confide,
Whofe kindness can footh me, whofe counfel can guide.
From fuch a dear lover, as here I describe,
No danger should fright me, no millions should bribe; But till this aftonishing creature I know,
As I long have liv'd chafte, I will keep myself fo.
I never will share with the wanton coquet,
Or be caught by a vain affectation of wit.
The toasters and fongfters may try all their art,
But never shall enter the pass of my
I loath the lewd rake, the drefs'd fopling despise:
Before fuch purfuers the nice virgin flies:
And as OVID has sweetly in parables told,
We harden like trees, and like rivers grow
The LADY'S RESOLVE.
Written extempore on a Window.
By the Same.
7HILST thirst of praise, and vain defire of fame,
In every age, is every woman's aim;
With courtship pleas'd, of filly toasters proud,
Found of a train, and happy in a crowd;
On each poor fool beftowing fome kind glance,
Each conqueft owing to fome loose advance;
While vain coquets affect to be pursu❜d,
And think they're virtuous, if not grofsly lewd:
Let this great maxim be my virtue's guide;
In part fhe is to blame that has been try❜d-
He comes too near that comes to be deny'd,
The GENTLEMAN'S ANSWER.
WHILST pretty fellows think a woman's fame
In every ftate and every age
With their own folly pleas'd the fair they toaft,
And where they leaft are happy, fwear they're most;
No difference making 'twixt coquet and prude;
And her that seems, yet is not really lewd;
While thus they think, and thus they vainly live,
And tafte no joys but what their fancy`give :
Let this great maxim be my action's guide,
May I ne'er hope, tho' I am ne'er deny'd ;
Nor think a woman won, that's willing to be try'd.
OW happy you! who varied joys purfue;
And every hour presents you fomething new?
Plans, fchemes, and models, all Palladio's art,
For fix long months have gain'd upon your
Of colonades, of corridores you talk,
The winding ftair-cafe and the cover'd walk;
You blend the orders with Vitruvian toil,
And raise with wond'rous joy the fancy'd pile :
But the dull workman's flow performing hand
But coldly executes his lord's command.
With dirt and mottar foon you grow difpleas'd,
Planting fucceeds, and avenues are rais'd,
Canals are cut, and mountains level made;
Bowers of retreat, and galleries of shade;
The fhaven turf presents a lively green;
The bordering flow'rs in mystick knots are seen :
With ftudied art on nature you refine-
The spring beheld you warm in this design,
But fcarce the cold attacks your fav'rite trees,
Your inclination fails, and wishes freeze.
You quit the grove, so lately you admir'd;
With other views your eager hopes are fir'd,
Poft to the city you direct your way;
Not blooming paradife could bribe your stay:
Ambition fhews your power's brightest fide;
'Tis meanly poor in folitude to hide.
Tho' certain pains attend the cares of state,
A good man owes his country to be great;
Should act abroad the high diftinguish'd part,
Or fhew at least the purpose of his heart.
With thoughts like these the shining courts you seek ;
Full of new projects for almost a week:
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