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And must in spite of them maintain,
That man and all his ways are vain;
And that this boafted lord of nature
Is both a weak and erring creature;
That inftinct is a furer guide

Than reason, boasting mortals pride;
And that brute beafts are far before 'em,
Deus eft anima brutorum.

Who ever knew an honeft brute,

At law his neighbour profecute,
Bring action for affault and battery,
Or friend beguile with lies and flattery?
O'er plains they ramble unconfin'd,
No politics difturb their mind;

They eat their meals, and take their sport,
Nor know who's in or out at court.
They never to the levee go;

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To treat as dearest friend a foe';

They never importune his Grace,

Nor ever cringe to men in place ;

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Nor undertake a dirty job;

Nor draw the quill to write for B-b:

Fraught with invective they ne'er go
To folks at Pater-nofter-row :

No judges, fiddlers, dancing-mafters,
No pick-pockets, or poetafters,
Are known to honeft quadrupedes :.
No fingle brute his fellow leads.
Brutes never meet in bloody fray,
Nor cut each others throats for pay.
Of beafts, it is confefs'd, the ape
Comes neareft us in human shape;
Like man he imitates each fafhion,
And malice is his ruling paffion.
But both in malice and grimaces,
A courtier any ape furpaffes.
Behold him humbly cringing wait
Upon the minifter of ftate:

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View him foon after to inferiors
Aping the conduct of fuperiors:
He promises with equal air,
And to perform takes equal care.
He in his turn finds imitators ;

At court the porters, lacqueys, waiters,
Their mafters' manners ftill contract,
And footmen, lords, and dukes can act,
Thus, at the court, both great and small
Behave alike, for all ape all.

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A beautiful

young NYMPH going to bed *.

Written for the honour of the Fair Sex in 1731.

Corinna, pride of Drury-lane,

For whom no fhepherd fighs in vain,
Never did Covent-garden boast
So bright a batter'd ftrolling toast!
No drunken rake to pick her
up,
No cellar, where on tick to fup;
Returning at the midnight hour,
Four stories climbing to her bow'r ;
Then feated on a three-legg'd chair.
Takes off her artificial hair.
Now picking out a crystal eye,
She wipes it clean, and lays it by.
Her eye-brows from a mouse's hide
Stuck oh with art on either fide,

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This poem, for which fome have thought no apology could be offered, deferves on the contrary, great commendation; as it much · more forcibly reftrains the thoughtless and the young from the risk of health and life, by picking up a proftitute, than the finest declamation on the fordinefs of the appetite.

Pulls

Pulls off with care, and first displays 'em,
Then in a play-book smoothly lays 'em.
Now dextroufly her plumpers draws,
That ferve to fill her hollow jaws.
Untwists a wire, and from her gums
A fet of teeth completely comes.
Pulls out the rags contriv'd to prop
Her flabby dugs, and down they drop.
Proceeding on, the lovely goddess
Unlaces next her steel-rib'd bodice,
Which, by the operator's fkill,
Prefs down the lumps, the hollows fill.
Up goes her hand, and off the flips
The bolfter that fupplies her hips.
With gentleft touch the next explores
Her fhancres, iffues, running fores;'
Effects of many a fad difafter,
And then to each applies a plaister:
But muft, before fhe goes to bed,
Rub off the daubs of white and red,
And fmooth the furrows in her front
With greafy paper stuck upon't,
She takes a bolus ere fhe fleeps ;
And then between two blankets creeps.
With pains of love tormented lies;
Or if the chance to close her eyes,
Of Bridewell and the Compter dreams,
And feels the lash, and faintly fcreams;
Or by a faithlefs bully drawn,
At fome hedge-tavern lies in pawn ;
Or to Jamaica feems tranfported
Alone, and by no planter courted;
Or, near Fleet-ditch's oozy brinks,
Surrounded with a hundred ftinks,
Belated, feems on watch to lie,
And fnap fome cully paffing by;

Ire viam.

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-Virg.

Et longam incomitata videtur

Or, ftruck with fear, her fancy runs
On watchmen, conftables, and duns,
From whom she meets with frequent rubs;
But never from religious clubs;

Whofe favour fhe is fure to find,

Because the

pays them all in kind.

Corinna wakes. A dreadful fight!
Behold the ruins of the night!
A wicked rat her plaister stole,

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Half eat, and dragg'd it to his hole.
The cryftal eye, alas! was mifs'd;

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A pigeon pick'd her iffue-peas:

And pufs had on her plumpers p-fs'd.

And Shock her treffes fill'd with fleas.

The nymph, though in this mangled plight, 65 Muft ev'ry morn her limbs unite.

But how fhall I defcribe her arts
To recollect the fcatter'd parts ?
Or fhew the anguifh, toil, and pain,
Of gath'ring up herself again?
The bashful mufe will never bear
In fuch a scene to interfere.
Corinna in the morning dizen'd,

Who fees, will spue; whofe fmells be poison'd.

7༠

VOL.VIII.

Q

STRE

STREPHON and CHLOE *.

Written in the Year 1731.

F Chloe all the town has rung,
By ev'ry fize of poets fung:

So beautiful a nymph appears
But once in twenty thoufand years;
By nature form'd with nicest care.
And faultlefs to a fingle hair.

Her graceful mein, her shape, and face,
Confefs'd her of no mortal race :
And then fo nice, and fo genteel;
Such cleanliness from head to heel;
No humours grofs, or frowzy fteams,
No noisome whiffs, or fweaty ftreams,
Before, behind, above, below,
Could from her taintlefs body flow:
Would fo discreetly things difpofe,
None ever faw her pluck a rofe.
Her dearest comrades never caught her,
Squat on her hams, to make maid's water.
You'd fwear that fo divine a creature

Felt no neceffities of nature.

In fummer had the walk'd the town,
Her armpits would not ftain her gown :
At country-dances not a nose

Could in the dog-days fmell her toes.

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This poem has among others been cenfured for indelicacy; but with no better reason than a medicine would be rejected for its ill taste. By attending to the marriage of Strephon and Chloe, the reader is neceffarily led to confider the effect of that grofs familiarity in which it is to be feared many married perfons think they have a right to indulge themselves: he who is difgufted at the picture, feels the force of the precept, not to disgust another by his practice: and let it never be forgotten, that nothing quenches defire like indelicacy; and that when defire hath been thus quenched, kindness will inevitably grow cold.

Her

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