Methinks already I your Tears furvey,

Already hear the horrid Things they fay,
Already fee you a degraded Toast,

And all your

Sall

Honour in a Whisper loft!

How fhall I, then, your helpless Fame defend?
"Twill then be Infamy to seem your Friend!

And shall this Prize, th' ineftimable Prize,
Expos'd thro' Crystal to the gazing Eyes,

And heighten'd by the Diamond's circling Rays,
On that Rapacious Hand for ever blaze?
Sooner fhall Grafs in Hide-Park Circus. grow,
And Wits take Lodgings in the Sound of Bow;
Sooner let Earth, Air, Sea, to Chaos fall,
Men, Monkies, Lap-dogs, Parrots, perish all!

She faid; then raging to Sir Plume repairs,
And bids her Beau demand the precious Hairs:
(Sir Plume, of Amber Snuff-box juftly vain,
And the nice Conduct of a Clouded Cane)
With earnest Eyes, and round unthinking Face,
He firft the Snuff-box open'd, then the Cafe,

[Devil?

And thus broke out-- "My Lord, why, what the [civil! "Z---ds! damn the Lock! 'fore Gad, you must be "Plague on't! 'tis paft a Jeft--- nay prithee, Pox! "Give her the Hair --- he spoke, and rapp'd his Box.

་

It grieves me much (reply'd the Peer again) Who fpeaks fo well fhou'd ever speak in vain. But* by this Lock, this facred Lock I fwear, (Which never more fhall join its parted Hair, Which never more its Honours fhall renew, Clipt from the lovely Head where once it grew) That while my Noftrils draw the vital Air, This Hand, which won it, fhall for ever wear. He spoke, and speaking in proud Triumph spread The long-contended Honours of her Head.

But Umbriel, hateful Gnome! forbears not fo; He breaks the Vial whence the Sorrows flow. Then fee! the Nymph in beauteous Grief appears, Her Eyes half languishing, half drown'd in Tears,

In allufion to Achilles's Oath in Homer, 11, г.

On

On her heav'd Bosom hung her drooping Head, Which, with a Sigh, the fais'd; and thus the said.

For ever curs'd be this detefted Day,.. Which fratch'd my belt, my fav rite Cutaway! Happy! ah ten times happy, had I beeng If Hampton-Court thefe Eyes had never feen! Yet am not I the firft mistaken Maid,

By Love of Courts to num'rous Ills betray'd.
Oh had I rather un-admir'd remain'de 35
In some lorse Ifle, or diftaht Northern Land;
Where the gilt Chariot heyer mark'd the way,
Where none learn Ombre, none e'er tafte Bobea
There kept my Charms conceal'd from mortal Eye,
Like Rofes that in Defarts bloom and die.

What mov'd my Mind with youthful Lords to rome?
O had 'I' stay'd, and faid my Pray'rs at Horne!
"Twas this, the Morning Omens did foretell;
Thrice from my trembling Hand the Patch-Box fell;
The tott'ring China fhook without a Wind,
Nay, Poll fate mute, and Shock was most unkind!

A Sylph too warn'd me of the Threats of Fate,
In myftic Visions, now believ'd too late!

See the poor Remnants of this flighted Hair!
My Hands shall rend what ev'n thy own did fpare.
This, in two fable Ringlets taught to break,
Once gave new Beauties to the fnowy Neck.
The Sifter-Lock now fits uncouth alone,
And in its Fellow's Fate forefees it own;
Uncurl'd it hangs, the fatal Sheers demands;
And tempts once more thy facrilegious Hands.
Oh hadft thou, Cruel! been content to seize
Hairs lefs in fight, or any Hairs but thefe!

THE