Forgive a young, and (almost) Virgin-Mule, Whom blind and eager curiofity

(Yet curiofity, they fay,

Is in her fex a crime needs no excufe)

Has fore'd to grope her uncouth way After a mighty light that leads her wandering eye. No wonder then the quits the narrow path of fense

For a dear ramble through impertinence; Impertinence! the fcurvy of mankind. And all we fools, who are the greater part of it, Though we be of two different factions still,

Both the good-natur'd and the ill,
Yet wherefoe'er you look, you'll always find
We join, like flies and wafps, in buzzing about
wit.

In me, who am of the frft fect of thefe,
All merit, that tranfcends the humble rules
Of my own dazzled feanty fenfe,
Begets a-kinder folly and impertinence

Of admiration and of praise.
And our good brethren of the furly fect

Muft e'en all herd us with their kindred fools:
For though, poffefs'd of prefent vogue, they've

made

Railing a rule of wit, and obloquy a trade;
Yet the fame want of brains produces each effect.
And you, whom Pluto's helm does wifely
fhroud

From us the blind and thoughtless croud,
Like the fam'd hero in his mother's cloud,
Who both our follies and impertinences fee,
Do langh perhaps at theirs, and pity mine and

me.

IV.

But cenfure's to be understood

Th' authentic mark of the elect,

The public ftamp Heaven fets on all that's great and good,

Our fhallow fearch and judgment to direct.
The war methinks has made

Cur wit and learning narrow as our trade;
Inftead of boldly failing far, to buy
A stock of wifdem and philosophy,

We fondly stay at home, in fear
Cf every cenfuring privateer;
Forcing a wretched trade by beating down the fale,
And felling bafely by reta I.

The wits, I mean the atheists of the age, Who fain would rule the pulpit as they do the stage;

Wondrous refiners of philofophy,

Of morals and divinity,

By the new modish fyftem of reducing all to

And, by their never-failing ways Of folving all appearances they please, We foon fhall fee them to their ancient methods fall,

And ftraight deny you to be men, or any thing at all.

I laugh at the grave answer they will make, Which they have always ready, general, and cheap :

'Tis but to fay, that what we daily meet,
And by a fond mistake

Perhaps imagine to be wondrous wit,
And think, alas! to be by mortals writ,
Is but a croud of atoms jufling in a heap,
Which from eternal feeds begun,
Juftling fome thoufand years till ripen'd by the
fun;

They're now, juft now, as naturally born,
As from the womb of earth a field of corn.

VI.

But as for poor contented me,

Who muft my weakness and my ignorance confefs,

That I believe in much I ne'er can hope to see ; Methinks I'm fatisfy'd to guefs,

That this new, noble, and delightful scene Is wonderfully mov'd by fome exalted men, Who have well ftudied in the world's difeafe (That epidemic error and depravity,

Or in our judgment or our eye), That what furprifes us can only pleafe. We often fearch contentedly the whole world round,

To make fome great discovery;

And fcorn it when 'tis found.

Juft fo the mighty Nile has fuser'd in its fame, Becaufe 'tis faid (and perhaps only faid) We've found a little inconfiderable head,

That feeds the huge unequal ftream. Confider human folly, and you'll quickly own, That all the praifes it can give, By which fome fondly boaft they fhall for ever live,

Won't pay th' impertinerec of being known; Elfe why should the fan'd Lydian king (Whom all the charms of an ufurped wife and ftate,

With all that power unfelt courts mankind to be

I grieve, this nobler work most happily begun,
So quickly and to wonderfully carry'd on,
May fall at laft to intereft, folly, and abuse.
There is a noon-tide in our lives,

Which fill the fooner it arrives,
Although we boat our winter-fun looks bright,
And foolishly are glad to fee it at its height,
Yet fo much fooner comes the long and gloomy
night.

No conqueft ever yet begun,

And by one mighty hero carried to its neight,
Eer Bourish'd under a fucceffor or a fon;

It lot fome mighty pieces through all hands it pait,

And vanish'd to an empty title in the laft. For, when the animating mind is filed (Which nature never can retain,

Nor e'er call back again),

The body, though gigantic, lies all cold and

dead.

XII,

And thus undoubtedly twill fare, With what unhappy men fhall dare To be fuce flors to thefe great unknown, On Learning's high-eftablish'd throne. Cenfure, and Pedantry, and Pride, Numberless nations, ftretching far and wide, Shall (I forefee it) foon with Gothic fwarms

come forth

From Ignorance's univerfal North, And with blind rage break all this peaceful go

vernment:

Yet fhall these traces of your wit remain,
Like a juft map, to tell the vast extent
Of conqueft in your fhort and happy reign;
And to all future mankind fhew
How ftrange a paradox is true,

That men who liv'd and dy'd without a name Are the chief heroes in the facred lift of Fame.

WRITTEN IN A

LADY's IVORY TABLE BOOK,

1699.

Phink thou feelt my owner's heart,
DERUSE my leaves through every part,

Scrawl'd o'er with trifles thus, and quite
As hard, as fenfelefs, and as light;
Expo-'d to every coxcomb's eyes,
But bid with caution from the wife.
Here you may read, "Dear charming faint!"
Beneath, A new receipt for paint:"
Here, in beau-fpelling, "Tru tel deth ;"
There, in her own, " For an el breth :"
Here, Lovely nymph, pronounce my doom!"
There," A fafe way to ufe perfume:"
Flore, a page fill'd with billets-doux;
On t'other fide, "Laid out for fhoes"-
Madam, I die without your grace?—
Item, for half a yard of lace,”

Who that had wit would place it here,
For every peeping fop to jeer;
In power of title and a clout,
Whene'er he pleafe, to blot it out;
And then, to heighten the digrace,
Clap his own nonfenfe in the place?
Whoe'er expects to hold his part
In fuch a book, and fuch a heart,
If he be v calthy, and a fool,
Is in all points the 'tteft tool;
Of whom it may be justly faid,
He's a gold pencil tipp'd with lead.

That I went to warm myfelf in Lady Betty'st chamber, because I was cold;

And I had in a purfe feven pounds, four fillings, and fx pence, berdes farthings, in money and gold:

So, because I had been buying things for my Lady laft night,

I was refoly❜d to tell my money, to see if it was right.

Now, you must know, because my trunk has a very bad lock,

Therefore all the money I have, which, God knows, is a very fmall stock,

I keep in my pocket, ty'd about my middle, next to my fmock.

So when I went to put up my purse, as God would have it, my fineck was unript, And, inftead of putting it into my pocket, down it flipt;

Then the bell rung, and I went down to put my Lady to bed;

And, God knows, I thought my money was as faie as my maidenhead.

So, when I came up again, I found my pocket feel very light:

But when I fearch'd, and mifs'd my purse, Lord! I thought I fhould have funk outright,

Lord! Madam, fays Mary, how d' ye do? Indeed, fays I, never worse:

But pray, Mary, can you tell what I have done with my purse?

Lord help me! faid Mary, I never ftirr'd out of this place:

Nay, faid I, I had it in Lady Betty's chamber, that's a plain cafe.

*The Earls of Berkeley and of Galway.

Lady Betty Berkeley, afterwardi Germais.

warm:

However, the ftole away my garters, that I might do myfelf no harm.

So I tumbled and tois'd all night, as you may very well think,

But hardly ever let my eyes together, or slept a wi K.

£o I was a-dream'd, methought, that we w•at and fearch'd the folks round,

And in a corner of Mr. Dules's box, ty'd in a rag, the morey was found,

So next morning we told Whittle †, and he fell a iwearing:

Then my une Wadgert came; and fhe, you know, is thick of heving,

Dame, faid I, as loud a Could bawl, do you now what a lofs I have had ?

Nay, faid fre, my Lord (elway's§ folks are all very fad;

For my Lord Dromedary comes a Tuefday without fail.

Pugh! faid I, but that 's not the bufinefs that I

ail.

Says Cary**, fays he, I have been a fervant this five and twenty years, come fpring, And in all the places I liv'd I never heard of fuch a thing.

The devil take me! faid fhe (bleffing herself) if ever I faw 't!

So the roar'd lie a Bedlam, as though I had call'd her all to naught.

So you know, what could I fay to her any more?

I e'er left her, and came away as wife as I was before.

Well; but then they would have had me gone to the curring man!

No,

faid I, is the fame thing, the chaplain will be here anon.

So the chaplain came in. Now the fervants say he is my fweetheart,

Because he's always in, my chamber, and I always take his part.

So, as the devil would have it, before I was aware, out I blunder'd,

Parfer, faid I, can you caft a nativity, when a body's plunder'd?

(Now, you must knew, he hates to be call'd farfen like the devil!)

Truly, fays he, Mrs. Nab, it might become you

If

th fe ages.

Now, Mrs. Du'es, you know, and every body underflands,

That though 'tis hard to judge, yet money can't go without hands.

*Wife to one of the footwe".

Earl of Der Feley's Valet.

Tic old deaf housekeeper.

§ Galway.

to be more civil:

your money be gone, as a learned divine says, d' ye fee,

You are no text for my handling: fo take that

from me:

was never taken for a conjurer before, I'd have you to know.

Lord! faid I, don't be angry, I am fure I never thought you fo;

You know I honour the cloth; I defign to be a parfer's wife;

I never took one in your coat for a conjurer in all my life.

With that he twifted his girdle at me like a rope, as who fhould fay,

Now you may go hang yourself for me! and fo went away.

Well: I thought I should have fwoon'd. Lord! faid I, what fball I do?

I have loft my money, and shall lofe my true love too!

Then my Lord call'd me: Harry, faid my' Lord, don't cry ;

│I'll give you something towards thy loss; and, fays my Lady, fo will I.

Oh! but, faid I, what if, after all, the chaplain won't come to?

For that, he faid, (an't please your Excellencies) I muft petition you.

The premiffes tenderly confider'd, I defire your Excellencies protection,

And that I may have a fhare in next Sunday's

collection;