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So, the Bard he finds Drink, and leaves Phæbus

to treat With the Thoughts he inspires, regardless of

Meat. Hence they that come hither expecting to dine, Are always fobb’d off with sheer Wit and sheer

Wine.

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On another Window. A RE the Guests of this House still doom'd

to be cheated ? Sure the Fates have decreed they by Halves

should be treated ? In the Days of good * John, if you came here

to dine, You had Choice of good Meat, no Choice of

good Wine. In Jonathan's Reign if you come here to eat, You have Choice of good Wine, no Choice of

good Meat. Oh Jove ! then how fully might all Sides be

blest, Would'st thou butagree to this humble Request:

Put * Dr. John Stearne, late Lord Bishop of Clogher, who had been the Predecessor of Dr. Swift, in the Deanery of St. Patrick's, and was always distinguished for his great Hospitality,

Put both Deans in one ; or if that's too much

Trouble, Instead of the Deans, make the Deanery double.

To a LADY, who desired the AUTHOR to

write some Verses upon her in the heroic
Style,

Written at London in the Year 1736.
AFTER venting all my Spight,
n Tell me, what have I to write ?
Ev'ry Error I could find
Thro' the Mazes of your Mind;
Have my busy Muse employ'd
'Till the Company is cloy'd,
Are you positive and fretful,
Heedless, ignorant, forgetful ?
These, and twenty Follies more,
I have often told before.

Hearken what my Lady says,
Have I nothing then to praise ?
Ill it fits you to be witty,
Where a Fault should move your Pity,

If you think me too conceited, · Or to Passion quickly heated;

If my wand'ring Head be less
Set on Reading than on Dress;
If I always seem so dull t’ye ;
I can solve the Difficulty,

You would teach me to be wise ;
Truth and Honour how to prize ;
How to shine in Conversation,
And with Credit fill my Station :
How to relish Notions high;
How to live, and how to die.

But it was decreed by Fate,
Mr. Dean you come too late ;
Well I know, you can discern,
I am now too old to learn :
Follies from my Youth instill’d,
Have my Soul entirely fillid:
In my Head and Heart they center;
Nor will let your Lessons enter.

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Bred a Fondling, and an Heiress;
Dreft like any Lady May’ress ;
Cocker'd by the Servants round,
Was too good to touch the Ground;
Thought the Life of ev'ry Lady
Should be one continual Play-day;

Q 4

Balls,

Balls, and Masquerades, and Shows,
Visits, Plays, and powder'd Beaux.

Thus you have my Case at large, And may now perform your Charge. Those Materials I have furnishid, When by you refin'd and burnish’d, Must, that all the World may know 'em, Be reduc'd into a Poem. But, I beg, suspend a while That same paultry, burlesque Style ; Drop for once your constant Rule, Turning all to Ridicule : Teaching others how to ape you ; Court nor Parliament can 'scape ye ; Treat the Publick and your Friends Both alike, while neither mends.

Sing my Praise in Strain sublime; Treat not me with doggrel Rhyme. 'Tis but just, you should produce With each Fault, each Fault's Excuse: Not to publish ev'ry Trifle, And my few Perfections stifle. With some Gifts at least endow me, Which my very Foes allow me. Am I spightful, proud, unjust ? Did I ever break my Trust?

Which of all your modern Dames
Censures less, or less defames ?
In good Manners am I faulty ?
Can you call me rude or haughty?
Did I e'er my Mite withhold
From the impotent and old ?
When did ever I omit
Due Regard for Men of Wit?
When have I Esteem express'd
For a Coxcomb gaily dress’d?
Do I, like the Female Tribe,
Think it Wit to fleer and gibe ?
Who, with less-designing Ends,
Kindly'r entertains their Friends ?
With good Words, and Count'nance sprightly,
Strive to treat them all politely.

Think not Cards my chief Diversion,
'Tis a wrong, unjuft Aspersion;
Never knew I any Good in ’um,
But to doze my Head like Laud'num :
We by Play, as Men by Drinking,
Pass our Nights to drive out Thinking.
From my Ailments give me Leisure,
I shall read and think with Pleasure :
Conversation learn to relish,
And with Books my Mind embellish.

Now,

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