Thus, I find it by Experiment,
Scolding moves you lefs than Merriment.
I may storm and rage in vain,
It but ftupifies your Brain:
But with Raillery to nettle,
Never lets your Mind elope;
Drives out Brangling and Contention,
Brings in Reason and Invention;
For your Sake as well as mine,
I the lofty Style decline.
I, who love to have a Fling
Both at S-n-te-House and
That they might fome better Way tread,
To avoid the publick Hatred;
Thought no Method more commodious,
Than to fhew their Vices odious,
Which I chose to make appear,
Not by Anger, but a Sneer:
my Method of reforming, Is by laughing, not by storming, (For my Friends have always thought Tenderness my greatest Fault) Would you have me change my Style On your Faults no longer smile;
But, to patch up all your Quarrels,
Quote you Texts from Plutarch's Morals;
Or, from Solomon produce
Maxims teaching Wifdom's Ufe?
If I treat you like a C—n'd H—d,
You have cheap enough compounded;
Can
you put in higher Claims,
Than the Owners of St. Js?`·
You are not fo great a Grievance,
As the Hirelings of St. St―ns.
You are of a lower Clafs
Than my Friend Sir Robert Brass.
None of these have Mercy found,
I have laugh'd, and lash'd them round.
Have you feen a Rocket fly?
You could fwear it pierc'd the Sky:
It but reach'd the middle Air,
Bursting into Pieces there;
Thousand Sparkles falling down,
Light on many a Coxcomb's Crown;
See, what Mirth the Sport creates,
Singes Hair, but breaks no Pates.
Thus, should I attempt to climb,
Treat you in a Style fublime,
Such a Rocket is my Muse,
Should I lofty Numbers chufe,
E'er I reach'd Parnaffus' Top,
I should burft, and bursting drop.
Fire would fall in Scraps,
Give your Head fome gentle Raps,
Only make it smart a while;
Then, could I forbear to smile,
When I found the tingling Pain,
Ent'ring warm your frigid Brain :
Make you able upon Sight
To decide of Wrong and Right;
Talk with Sense whate'er you please on;
Learn to relish Truth and Reason.
Thus we both should gain our Prize: I to laugh, and you grow wife.
A LOVE POEM, from a PHYSICIAN to his MISTRESS.
Written at London in the Year 1728.
Y Poets we are well affur'd
That Love, alas! can ne'er be cur'd;
A complicated Heap of Ills,
Defpifing Bolufes and Pills.
Ah! Chloe, this I find is true,
Since first I gave my Heart to you.
Now, by your Cruelty hard-bound
I ftrain my Guts, my Colon wound:
Now, Jealoufy my grumbling Tripes
Affaults, with grating, grinding Gripes:
When Pity in those Eyes I view,
My Bowels wambling make me fpew.
When I an am'rous Kifs defign'd,
I belch'd a Hurricane of Wind.
Once, you a gentle Sigh let fall,
Remember how I fuck'd it all;
What Cholic Pangs from thence I felt,
Had you but known, your
Heart would melt,
Like ruffling Winds in Caverns pent,
'Till Nature pointed out a Vent.
How have you torn my Heart to Pieces,
With Maggots, Humours, and Caprices!
By which I got the Hemorrhoids,
And loathfome Worms my Anus voids.
Whene'er I hear a Rival nam'd,
I feel my Body all inflam'd
Which breaking out in Boyls and Blanes,
With yellow Filth my Linen ftains;
Or, parch'd with unextinguish'd Thirft,
Small Beer I guzzle 'till I burst;
And then I drag a bloated Corpus
Swell'd with a Dropfy, like a Porpus;
When if I cannot purge or ftale,
I must be tapp'd to fill a Pail.
On a PRINTER's being fent to NEWGATE, by the
ETTER we all were in our Graves
Than live in Slavery to Slaves;
Worfe than the Anarchy at Sea,
Where Fishes on each other prey;
Where ev'ry Trout can make as high Rants
O'er his Inferiors as our Tyrants;
And fwagger while the Coaft is clear;
But should a lordly Pike appear,
Away you see the Varlet fcud,
Or hide his coward Snout in Mud.
Thus, if a Gudgeon meet a Roach
He dare not venture to approach;
Yet ftill hath Impudence to rife,
And, like Domitian, leap at Flies.
Upon ftealing a CROWN when the DEAN was afleep, by Dr. SHERIDAN.
EAR Dean, fince you in fleepy wife
Have op'd your Mouth, and clos'd
Eyes,
Ghoft-like I glide along your Floor,
And foftly shut the Parlour Door;
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