Thus they, like Actors 'till the Play is done,
Have nothing on that they can call their own.
Confult their Glaffes how to move their Lips,
To thruft their Breech out, and to fhake their Hips;
Then look again, and turn their Eyes afide,
Practife to laugh, to fawn, and to deride.
What means their naked Breafts, that open way
For wand'ring Thoughts to enter at and ftray,
But to inflame our Hearts into Defire,
And kindle in our Bloods a wanton Fire.

These are the Dangers which all Youth do run;
These are the Rocks and Gulphs I'd have 'em fhun
Thus much we do in learned Umber find,
What in his Days he thought of Womankind :
That they were vicious then, we muft allow,
But we all know they're much less vicious now.

Sir GEORGE ETHERIDGE to the Earl of MIDDLETON.

INCE Love and Verfe, as well as Wine,

SINCE

Are brisker where the Sun does fhine,

'Tis fomething to lose two Degrees,
Now Age it felf begins to freeze:
Yet this I patiently cou'd bear,
If the rough Danube's Beauties were
But only two degrees lefs fair

Than the bright Nymphs of gentle Thames,
Who warm me hither with their Beams:
Such Power they have, they can dispence
Five hundred Miles their Influence.
But Hunger forces Men to eat,
Though no Temptation's in the Meat.
How would the ogling Sparks despise
The darling Damfel of my Eyes;
Should they behold her at a Play,
As fhe's trick'd up on Holy-day

When the whole Family combine
For publick Pride to make her fhine?
Her Locks, which long before lay matted,
Are on this Day comb'd out and plaited:
A Diamond Bodkin in each Trefs,
The Badges of her Nobleness.
For ev'ry Stone, as well as fhe,
Can boaft an ancient Pedigree.
These form'd the Jewel erft did grace
The Cap of the first Grave o'th' Race,
Preferr'd by Graffin Marian

Tadorn the Handle of her Fan,
And as by old Record appears,
Worn fince in Renigunda's Years,
Now sparkling in the Frokin's Hair,
No Rocket breaking in the Air
Can with her ftarry Head compare.
Such Roaps of Pearl her Arms incumber,
She scarce can deal the Cards at Ombre.
So many Rings each Finger freight,
They tremble with the mighty weight.
The like in England ne'er was feen,
Since Halben drew Hal and his Queen.
But after thefe fantaftick Flights,
The Luftre's meaner than the Lights.
The Thing that bears this glittring Pomp
Is but a tawdry ill-bred Romp,

Whose brawny Limbs and martial Face
Moclaim her of the Gothick Race,
More than the mangled Pageantry
Of all the Father's Heraldry.

But there's another fort of Creatures,
Whofe ruddy Look and Grotefque Features
Are fo much out of Nature's ways
You'd think 'em ftamp'd on other Clay';
No lawful Daughters of old Adam.
'Mongft these behold a City Madam,
With Arms in Mittins, Head in Muffy,
A dapper Cloak and rev'send Ruff:

No Farce fo pleasant as this Maukin,
And the foft Sound of High-Dutch talking.
Here unattended by the Graces,

The Queen of Love in a fad Cafe is.
Nature, her active Minister,
Neglects Affairs, and will not ftir;
Thinks it not worth the while to please,
But when the does it for her Eafe.
Ev'n I, her moft devout Adorer,

With wand'ring Thoughts appear before her.
And when I'm making an Oblation,
Am fain to spur Imagination

With fome fham London Inclination.
The Bow is bent at German Dame,
The Arrow flies at English Game.
Kindness, that can Indifference warm,
And blow that Calm into a Storm,
Has in the very tendereft Hour
Over my Gentleness a Power.

True to my Country-women's Charms,

When kiss'd and prefs'd in foreign Arms..

}

A Letter from Mr. DRYDEN to Sir GEORGE ETHERIDGE.

O you who live in chill Degree,

And do not much for Cold attone,
By bringing thither Fifty one;
Methinks all Climes fhou'd be alike,
From Tropick ev'n to Pole Artique ;
Since you have such a Conftitution
As no where fuffers Diminution.
You can be old in grave Debate,
And young in Love affairs of States

And both to Wives and Husbands fhow
The Vigour of a Plenipo------
Like mighty Miffioner you come
Ad Partes Infidelium, i

A Work of wondrous Merit fure,
So far to go, fo much t'indure:
And all to Preach to German Dame,
Where found of Cupid never came.
Lefs had you done, had you been sent
As far as Drake or Pinto went,
For Cloves or Nutmegs to the Line a,
Or even for Oranges to China.
That had indeed been Charity;
Where Love-fick Ladies helpless lye,
Chapt, and for want of Liquor dry.
But you have made your Zeal appear
Within the Circle of the Bear.
What Region of the Earth's fo dull,
That is not of your Labours full ?
Triptolemus, fo fung the Nine,
Strew'd Plenty from his Cart Divine,
But fpite of all these Fable-Makers,
He never fow'd on Almain Acres:
No, that was left by Fate's Decree,
To be perform'd and fung by thee.
Thou break'ft thro' Forms with as much ease
As the French King thro' Articles.
In grand Affairs thy Days are spent,
In waging weighty Complement,
With fuch as Monarchs reprefent.
They who fuch vaft Fatigues attend,
Want fome foft Minutes to unbend,
To fhow the World that now and then
Great Minifters are mortal Men.
Then Rhenifh Rummers walk the round,
In Bumpers ev'ry King is crown'd,
Befides three Holy miter'd Hectors,
And the whole College of Ele&ors

No Health of Potentate is funk
That pays to make his Envoy drunk.
Thefe Dutch Delights I mention'd last,
Suit not I know your English Tafte:
For Wine to leave a Whore or Play
Was ne'er your Excellency's way.
Nor need this Title give Offence,
For here you were your Excellence,
For Gaming, Writing, Speaking, Keeping,
His Excellence for all but Sleeping.
Now if you tope in form, and treat,
'Tis the four Sauce to the fweet Meat,
The Fine you pay for being great.
"Nay here's a harder Impofition,
Which is indeed the Court's Petition,
That fetting worldly Pomp afide,
Which Poet has at Font deny'd,
You wou'd be pleas'd in humble way
To write a Trifle call'd a Play.
This truly is a Degradation,

But wou'd oblige the Crown and Nation
Next to your wife Negotiation.

If you pretend, as well you may,

Your high Degree; your Friends will fay
The Duke St. Agnon made a Play.

If Gallick Wit convince you scarce,
His Grace of Bucks has made a Farce.

And you, whofe Comick Wit is Terse all,
Can hardly fall below Rehearfal.
Then finish what you have began ;
But fcribble fafter if you can:
For yet no George, to our difcerning,
Mas writ without a ten Years warning,