To shew I don't flinch, fill the bowl up again; Then give us a pinch of your sneezing, a yean *. Good Lord! what a fight, after all their good cheer, For people to fight in the midst of their beer! They rife from their feast, and hot are their brains, A cubit at least the length of their skeans t. What stabs and what cuts, what clattering of sticks; What strokes on the guts, what bastings and kicks! With cudgels of oak well harden'd in flame, An hundred heads broke, an hundred struck lame. You churl, I'll maintain my father built Lufk, The castle of Slain, and Carrick Drumrufk: The earl of Kildare and Moynalta his brother, As great as they are, I was nurst by their mother. Ask that of old madam; fhe 'll tell you who's who As far up as Adam, she knows it is true. Come down with that beam, if cudgels are scarce, A blow on the weam, or a kick on the a-fe.

AN EXCELLENT NEW SONG
On a SEDITIOUS PAMPHLETI, 1720.

To the tune of, "Packington's Pound."

BROCADOS and damasks, and tabbies, and gawfes, Are by Robert Ballentine lately brought over, With forty things more: now hear what the law says, Whoe'er will not wear them, is not the king's lover.

* Irish for a woman. + Daggers or fhort-swords, ↑ Propofal for the universal use of Irish manufactures, for which Waters the printer was severely profecuted. VOL. I. Though

1

Though a printer and dean
Seditioufly mean

Our true Irish hearts from old England to wean;
We'll buy English silks for our wives and our daughters,
In spite of his deanship and journeyman Waters.

In England the dead in woollen are clad,

The dean and his printer then let us cry fye on;
To be cloath'd like a carcase, would make a Teague mad,
Since a living dog better is than a dead lion.

Our wives they grow sullen
At wearing of woollen,

And all we poor fhop-keepers must our horns pull in.
Then we 'll buy English silks for our wives and our

daughters,

In spite of his deanship and journeyman Waters.
Whoever our trading with England would hinder,
To inflame both the nations do plainly confpire;
Because Irish linen will foon turn to tinder,

And wool it is greasy, and quickly takes fire.
Therefore I affure ye,
Our noble grand jury,

When they saw the dean's book, they were in a great fury:
They would buy English silks for their wives and their

daughters,

In spite of his deanship and journeyman Waters.

This wicked rogue Waters, who always is sinning,
And before corum nobus so oft' has been call'd,
Henceforward shall print neither pamphlets nor linen,
And, if swearing can do't, shall be swingingly mawl'd:

And as for the dean,

You know whom I mean,

If the printer will peach him, he 'll scarce come off clean. Then we 'll buy English silks for our wives and our

daughters,

In spite of his deanship and journeyman Waters.

THE PROGRESS OF BEAUTY.

1720.

WHEN first Diana leaves her bed,

Vapours and steams her look disgrace,

A frowzy dirty-colour'd red

Sits on her cloudy wrinkled face :
But by degrees, when mounted high,
Her artificial face appears
Down from her window in the sky,
Her spots are gone, her visage clears.

'Twixt earthly females and the maon
All parallels exactly run :
If Celia should appear too foon,
Alas, the nymph would be undone !

To fee her from her pillow rife,
All reeking in a cloudy steam,
Crack'd lips, foul teeth, and gummy eyes,
Poor Strephon! how would he blafpheme!
Three colours, black, and red, and white,
So graceful in their proper place,
Remove them to a different scite,
They form a frightful hideous face :

For instance, when the lily skips
Into the precincts of the rofe,
And takes poffeffion of the lips,
Leaving the purple to the nose :
So Celia went intire to bed,

All her complexion safe and found;
But, when the rose, white, black, and red,
Though ftill in fight, had chang'd their ground.

The black, which would not be confin'd,
A more inferior station seeks,

Leaving the fiery red behind,
And mingles in her muddy cheeks.
But Celia can with ease reduce,
By help of pencil, paint, and brush,
Each colour to its place and use,
And teach her checks again to blush.

She knows her early felf no more,
But fill'd with admiration stands;
As other painters oft' adore

The workmanship of their own hands.

Thus, after four important hours,
Celia's the wonder of her sex :
Say, which among the heavenly powers
Could caufe fuch marvelous effects?

Venus, indulgent to her kind,

Gave women all their hearts could with, When first she taught them where to find White-lead and Lufitanian dish.

Love with white-lead cements his wings :
White-lead was fent us to repair
Two brightest, brittleft, earthly things,
A lady's face, and China-ware.
She ventures now to lift the sash;
The window is her proper sphere:
Ah, lovely nymph! be not too rafh,
Nor let the beaux approach too near.
Take pattern by your sister star :

Delude at once and bless our fight;
When you are seen, be feen from far,
And chiefly chufe to shine by night.
But art no longer can prevail,
When the materials all are gone;
The best mechanic hand must fail,
Where nothing 's left to work upon.
Matter, as wife logicians say,

Cannot without a form fubfift;
And form, fay I as well as they,
Muft fail, if matter brings no grift.

And this is fair Diana's cafe;

For all astrologers maintain,
Each night a bit drops off her face,
When mortals fay the 's in her wane :
While Partridge* wifely shews the cause
Efficient of the moon's decay,
That Cancer with his poifonous claws
Attacks her in the milky way :

*Partridge and Gadbury wrote each an ephemeris.