The knave won fon ecart which I had chofe,
And the next pull my Septleva I lofe.

SMILINDA.

But ah! what aggravates the killing smart,
The cruel thought that stabs me to the heart,
This curs'd QMBRELIA, this undoing fair,
By whofe vile arts this heavy grief I bear,
She at whofe name I fhed these spiteful tears,
She owes to me the very charms fhe wears:
An aukward thing when firft fhe came to town,
Her fhape unfafhion'd, and her face unknown,
She was my friend, I taught her first to spread
Upon her fallow cheeks enlivening red;
I introduc'd her to the park and plays,
And by my intereft CosINs made her stays.
Ungrateful wretch! with mimic airs grown pert,
She dares to fteal my favourite lover's heart.

CARDELIA.

Wretch that I was! how often have I fwore, When WINNAL tallied, I would punt no more! I know the bite, yet to my ruin run,

And see the folly which I cannot shun.

SMILINDA.

How many maids have SHARPER'S Vows deceiv'd!
How many curs'd the moment they believ'd!
Yet his known falfhood could no warning prove:

Ah! what is warning to a maid in love!

CARDELIA.

CARDELIA.

But of what marble must that breast be form'd,
To gaze on Baffette, and remain unwarm'd ?
When kings, queens, knaves, are fet in decent rank,
Expos'd in glorious heaps the tempting bank,
Guineas, half-guineas, all the shining train,
The winner's pleasure and the lofer's pain.
In bright confufion open rouleaus lie,
They ftrike the foul, and glitter in the eye.
Fir'd by the fight, all reason I disdain,
My paffions rife, and will not bear the rein;
Look upon Baffette, you who reafon boast,
And fee if reafon may not there be loft.

SMILINDA.

What more than marble must that heart compofe,
Can hearken coldly to my SHARPER'S VOWS!

Then when he trembles, when his blushes rife,
When awful love feems melting in his eyes!
With eager beats his Mechlin cravat moves;
He loves, I whifper to myfelf, he loves!
Such unfeign'd paffion in his look appears,
I lofe all mem❜ry of my former fears;
My panting heart confeffes all his charms;
I yield at once, and fink into his arms.

Think of that moment, you who prudence boaft!
For fuch a moment, prudence well were loft.

CARDELIA.

CARDELIA.

At the groom porter's, batter'd bullies play;
Some dukes at Marybone bowl time away!
But who the bowl or rattling dice compares
To Baffette's heavenly joys and pleafing cares?
SMILINDA.

Soft SIMPLICETTA doats upon a beau ;.
PRUDINA likes a man, and laughs at show:
Their feveral graces in my SHARPER meet;
Strong as the footman, as the mafter sweet.

LOVEIT.

Ceafe your contention, which has been too long,
I grow impatient, and the tea's too strong:
Attend, and yield to what I now decide;
The equipage fhall grace SMILINDA's fide;
The fnuff-box to CARDELIA I decree;
So leave complaining, and begin your tea.

• John Sheffield, duke of Buckingham, is the person here alluded to. It was the custom of this nobleman, daily to frequent the place abovementioned, where he facrificed his time, his property, and at length his reputation, in the company of knaves and fharpers. His conftant attendance on this fcene of infamous refort, is hinted at by himself, in his letter to the duke of Shrewsbury, defcribing his mode of living. "After I have dined, I drive away to a place (Marybone) of air, and "exercife; which fome conftitutions are in abfolute need of agitation "of the body, and diverfion of the mind, being a compofition for health, "above all the skill of Hippocrates. Buckingham's Works, 4to. p. 278.

FRIDAY.

FRIDA Y.

The TOILETTE.

By Mr. GAY.

LYDIA.

TOW twenty fprings had cloath'd the park with green,

N

Since LYDIA knew the bloffoms of fifteen ;

No lovers now her morning hours moleft;

And catch her at her toilette half undrest.

The thund'ring knocker wakes the street no more,
Nor chairs, nor coaches crowd the filent door;
Nor at the window all her mornings pass,
Or at the dumb devotion of her glass:
Reclin'd upon her arm the penfive fate,
And curs'd th' inconftancy of man too late.

"Oh youth! O fpring of life for ever loft! "No more my name fhall reign the fav'rite toast; "On glass no more the diamond grave my name, "And lines mif-fpelt record my lover's flame : "Nor fhall fide-boxes watch my wand'ring eyes, "And, as they catch the glance, in rows arise "With humble bows; nor white-glov'd beaus encroach, "In crowds behind, to guard me to my coach. "What shall I do to spend the hateful day? "At chapel fhall I wear the morn away?

* Who

"Who there appears at these unmodifh hours, "But ancient matrons with their frizled tow'rs, "And grey religious maids? My presence there "Amidft that fober train, would own defpair; "Nor am I yet fo old, nor is my glance 66 As yet fix'd wholly on devotion's trance. "Strait then I'll drefs, and take my wonted range "Through India fhops, to Motteux's, or the 'Change,

"Where the tall jar erects its ftately pride,

"With antic shapes in China's azure dy'd;

"There careless lies a rich brocade unroll'd,
"Here fhines a cabinet with burnish'd gold.
"But then, alas! I must be forc'd to pay,
"And bring no penn'orths, not a fan away!
"How am I curs'd, unhappy and forlorn!
My lover's triumph, and my fex's fcorn!
"Falfe is the pompous grief of youthful heirs ;
"Falfe are the loofe coquet's inveigling airs ;

66

Falfe is the crafty courtier's plighted word;

"Falfe are the dice, when gamefters ftamp the board; "Falfe is the fprightly widow's public tear;

"Yet these to DAMON's oaths are all fincere.

f Peter Motteaux, the tranflator of Rabelais and Don Quixote, and author of feveral plays, was master of one of the India fhops kept in the city. He refided in Leadenhall Street. See The Spectator, No. 288,

and 552.

s

For