DORIS and MELANTHE.
AINT James's noon-day bell for prayers had toll'd,
And coaches to the Patron's Levée roll'd,
When Doris rofe. And now through all the room
From flow'ry Tea exhales a fragrant fume.
Cup after cup they fipt, and talk'd by fits,
For Doris here, and there Melanthe fits.
Doris was young, a laughter-loving dame,
Nice of her own alike and others fame;
Melanthe's tongue could well a tale advance,
And fooner gave than funk a circumstance:
Lock'd in her mem'ry fecrets never dy'd ;
Doris begun, Melanthe thus reply'd.
Sylvia the vain fantastic fop admires,
The Rake's loose gallantry her bosom fires ;
Sylvia like that is vain, like this she roves,
In liking them fhe but herself approves.
Laura rails on at men, the sex reviles,
Their vice condemns, or at their folly fmiles.
Why should her tongue in just resentment fail,
Since men at her with equal freedom rail ?
Laft Masquerade was Sylvia nymphlike seen,
Her hand a crook fuftain'd, her drefs was green ;
An am'rous fhepherd led her through the croud,
The nymph was innocent, the fhepherd vow'd ;
But nymphs their innocence with fhepherds truft;
So both withdrew, as nymph and shepherd must.
MELANTHE.
Name but the license of the modern stage,
Laura takes fire, and kindles into rage;
The whining Tragic love the fcarce can bear,
But naufeous Comedy ne'er fhock'd her ear;
Yet in the gall'ry mobb'd, fhe fits fecure,
And laughs at jefts that turn the Box demure.
DORIS.
Truft not, ye Ladies, to your beauty's pow'r,
For beauty withers like a fhrivell'd flow'r;
Yet those fair flow'rs that Sylvia's temples bind,
Fade not with fudden blights or winter's wind;
Like those her face defies the rolling years,
For art her roses and her charms repairs.
MELANTHE.
Laura defpifes ev'ry outward grace,
The wanton fparkling eye, the blooming face; The beauties of the foul are all her pride,
For other beauties Nature has deny'd;
If affectation fhow a beauteous mind,
Lives there a man to Laura's merits blind?
DORIS.
Sylvia be fure defies the town's reproach,
Whofe Deshabille is foil'd in hackney coach;
What though the fash was clos'd, muft we conclude,
That she was yielding, when her fop was rude?
Laura learnt caution at too dear a coft.
What Fair could e'er retrieve her honour loft?
Secret she loves; and who the nymph can blame,
Who durft not own a footman's vulgar flame?
DORIS,
Though Laura's homely tafte defcends fo low;
Her footman well may vie with Sylvia's beau.
MELANTHE.
Yet why fhould Laura think it a difgrace,
When proud Miranda's groom wears Flanders lace?
DORIS.
What, though for mufick Cynthio boasts an ear?
Robin perhaps can hum an Opera air.
Cynthio can bow, takes fnuff, and dances well,
Robin talks common fenfe, can write and spell :
Sylvia's vain fancy drefs and fhow admires,
But 'tis the man alone whom Laura fires.
Plato's wife morals Laura's foul improve :
And this no doubt must be Platonic love!
Her foul to gen'rous acts was still inclin'd;
What shows more virtue than an humble mind?
What, though young Sylvia loves the Park's cool fhade, And wanders in the dufk the fecret glade ?
Masqu'd and alone (by chance) fhe met her Spark,... That innocence is weak which shuns the dark.
But Laura for her flame has no pretence;
Her footman is a footman too in fenfe,
All Prudes I hate, and thofe are rightly curft
With fcandal's double load, who cenfure firft.
DORIS.
And what if Cynthio Sylvia's garter ty'd!
Who fuch a foot and fuch a leg would hide;
When crook-knee'd Phillis can expofe to view
Her gold-clock'd ftocking, and her tawdry fhoe?
MELANTHE.
If pure Devotion center in the face,
If cens'ring others fhew intrinfick grace,
If guilt to publick freedoms be confin'd,
Prudes (all muft own) are of the holy kind!
DORIS.
Sylvia difdains referve, and flies constraint:
She neither is, nor would be thought a Saint.
MELANTHE.
Love is a trivial paffion, Laura cries,
་ May I be bleft with friendship's ftricter ties;
To fuch a breaft all fecrets we commend;
Sure the whole Drawing-room is Laura's friend.
DORIS.
At marriage Sylvia rails; who men would truft?
Yet husbands' jealoufies are fometimes juft.)
Her favours Sylvia fhares among mankind,
Such gen'rous love should never be confin'd.
As thus alternate chat employ'd their tongue,
With thund'ring raps the brazen knocker rung.
Laura and Sylvia came; the nymphs arise :
This unexpected vifit, Doris, cries,
• Is doubly kind! Melantbe Laura led,
Since I was last so bleft, my dear, she said,
Sure 'tis an age! they fate; the hour was fet;
And all again that night at Ombre met.
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