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

Than reason, boasting inortals pride ;
And that brute beasts are far before 'em,
Deus eft anima bruto' um.
Who ever knew an honest brute,
At law his neighbour profecute,
Bring action for affault and battery,
Or friend beguile with lies and Aattery?
O’er plains they ramble unconfin’d,
No politics disturb their mind ;
They eat their meals, and take their sport,
Nor know who's in or out at court.
They never to the levée

To treat as dearest friend a foe;
They never importune his Grace,
Nor ever cringe to men in place ;.
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-masters,
No pick-pockets, or poetasters,
Are known to honeft quadrupedes :
No single brute his fellow leads.
Brutes never meet in bloody fray,
Nor cut each others throats for pay.
Of beasts, it is confefs'd, the ape
Comes neareft us in human shape ;
Like man he imitates each fashion,
And malice is his ruling paffion.
But both in malice and grimaces,
A courtier any ape surpaffes.
Behold him humbly cringing wait
Upon the minister of state :






View him soon 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 masters' manners still contract,
And fuotmen, lords, and dukes can act,
Thus, at the court, both great and small
Behave alike, for all all.



A beautiful young Nymph going to bed *.

Written for the honour of the Fair Sex in 1731.


Corinna, pride of Daury-lane,

For whom 'no fhepherd fighs in vain,
Never did Covent-garden boast
So bright a batter'd strolling 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 seated 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 side,


* This poem, for vihich some have thought no apol gy could be offered, deierves on the contrary, great commendation; as it much more forcibly restrains the thoughtleis and the young from the risk of health and life, by picking up a prostitute, than the est declama tion on the fordidness of the appetite.






Pulls off with care, and first displays 'em,
Then in a play-book smoothly lays 'em.
Now dextrously her plumpers draws,
That serve to fill her hollow jaws.
Untwists a wire, and from her gums
A set 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 skill,
Press down the lumps, the hollows fill.
Up goes her hand, and off the flips
The bolster that supplies her hips.
With gentleft touch the next explores
Her thancres, issues, running fores;
Effects of many a fad disaster,
And then to each applies a plaister:
But must, before she goes to bed,
Rub off the daubs of white and red,
And smooth the furrows in her front
With greasy paper stuck upon't,
She takes a bolus ere she sleeps ;
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 screams;
Or by a faithless bully drawn,
At some hedge-tavern lies in pawn ;
Or to Jamaica seems transported
Alone *, and by no planter courted;
Or, near Fleet-ditch's oozy brinks,
Surrounded with a hundred stinks,
Belated, seems on watch to lie,
And snap fome cully passing by ;

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-Fi lorgam incomitata videtur
Ire viam,



Or, ftruck with fear, 'her fancy runs
On watchmen, conftables, and duns,
From whom she meets with frequent rubs ;
But never from religious clubs;
Whose favour she is sure 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,
Half eat, and dragg’d it to his hole.
The crystal eye, alas! was miss’d;
And puss had on her plumpers pfs’d.
A pigeon pick'd her iffue-peas :
And Shock her treffes fill'd with fleas.


The nymph, though in this mangled plight, 65 Must ev'ry morn her limbs unite. But how shall I describe her arts To recollect the scatter'd parts? Or shew the anguish, toil, and pain, Of gath’ring up herself again ?

70 The bashful muse will never bear In such a scene to interfere. Corinna in the morning dizen'd, Who sees, will fpue; whose smells be poison'd.

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Written in the Year 1731,

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F Chloe all the town has

By ev'ry fize of poets sung:
So beautiful a nyinph appears
But once in twenty thousand years ;
By nature form'd with nicest care.
And faultless to a single hair.
Her graceful mein, her shape, and face,
Confess'd her of no mortal race :
And then so nice, and so genteel;
Such cleanliness from head to heel ;
No humours grofs, or frowzy fteams,
No noisome whiffs, or sweaty streams,
Before, behind, above, below,
Could from her taintless body flow:
Would so discreetly things dispose,
None ever saw her pluck a rose.
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 summer had she 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.



This poem has among others been censured for indelicacy; but with no better reason than a medicine would be rejected for its ill taite. By attending to the marriage of Strephon and Chloe, the reader is necessarily led to consider the effect of that gross familiarity in which it is to be feared many married persons think they have a right to indulge themselves : he who is disqusted 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 desire like indelicacy; and that when desire hath been thus quenched, kindness will inevitably grow cold.


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