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Pleas'd while with smiles his happy lines you view,
the Coronation, 1715.
Drags from the Town to wholesome country air, Just when the learns to roll a melting eye, And hear a spark, yet think no danger nigh, From the dear man unwilling the muit fever, 5 Yet takes one kiss before the parts for ever ; Thus from the world fair Zephalinda flew, Saw others happy, and with sighs withdrew; Not that their pleasures caus'd her discontent ; She sigh'd not that they stay’d, but that she went.
She went to plain work, and to purling brooks, Old-fashion'd halls, dull aunts, and croaking rooks: She went from opera, park, assembly, play, To morning walks, and pray’rs three hours a day; To part her time 'twixt reading and bonea, To muse, and spill her solitary tea, Or o'er cold coffee trifle with the spoon, Count the flow clock, and dine exact at noon; Divert her eyes with pictures in the fire, Hum half a tune, tell stories to the squire ; Up to her godly garret after fev'n, There starve and pray, for that's the way to heav'n.
Some squire, perhaps, you take delight to rack, Whose game is Whist, whose treat a toast in fack; Who visits with a gun, presents you birds, 25 Then gives a smacking huss, and cries-no words ! Or with his hounds comes hallooing from the stable, Makes loves with nods, and knees beneath a table; Whose laughs are hearty, tho' his jests are coarse, And loves you best of all things--but his horse.
In some fair ev’ning, on your elbow laid,
Deceiv'd by thews and forms!
15 Is aptly term'd a Glow-worin.
The fops are painted butterflies,
That statesmen have the worm, is seen
O learned friend of Abchurch-lane,
Our fate thou only canst adjourn
4. EPISTLE VII.
To Mrs. M. B. on her Birth-day. OH! be thou bless’d with all that Heav'n can send,
Long health, long youth, long pleasure, and a friend; Not with those toys the female world admire, Riches that vex, and vanities that tire. With added years, if life bring nothing new, 5 But like a sieve let ev'ry blessing thro', Some joys still loft, as each vain year runs o’er, And all we gain some sad reflection more:
Is that a birth-day? "tis, alas ! too clear,
Let joy or ease, let affluence or content,
With not one fin but poetry,
THE BASSET TABLE.
Why itays Sinilinda in the dressing-room ?
Smil. Ah, Madam! since my Sharper is untrue,
2 And whilper with that soft deluding air, And those feign'd fighs which cheat the lift'ving fair.
Card. Is this the cause of your romantic Itrains ? A mightier grief my heavy heart suitains; As you by love, so I by fortune croit ; One, one bad deal three Septlevas have lost.
Smil. Is that the griefwhich you compare with mine? With ease the fimiles of Fortune I resign: Would all my gold in one bad deal were gone, Were lovely Sharper mine, and mine alone.
Card. A lover loit is but a common care,
Smil. See Betty Lovet! very à propos,
25 By cards’ill usage, or by lovers loft.
Lov. Tell, tell your griefs; attentive will I stay, Tho'time is precious, and I want some tea.
Card. Behold this equipage, by Mathers wrought, With fifiy guineas (a great penn'worth) bought. See on the toothpick Mars and Cupid Itrive, And both the tiruggling figures seem alive.