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PEACE to all such! but were there one whose

Fires Apollo kindled, and fair Fame inspires, Bleft with each Talent, and each Art to please And born to write, converse, and live with Ease ; Should such a Man, too fond to rule alone, Bear, like the Turk, no Brother near the Throne ; View him with fcornful, yet with fearful Eyes, And hate for Arts that caus’d himself to rise ; Damn with faint Praise, assent with civil Leer, And without sneering, teach the rest to sneer ; Wishing to wound, and yet afraid to strike, Just hint a Fault, and hesitate Diflike ; Alike reserv'd to blame, or to commend, A tim'rous Foe, and a suspicious Friend. Dreading ev'n Fools, by Flatterers belieg'd, And so obliging that he ne'er oblig'd : Who, if two Wits on rival Themes contest, Approves of each, but likes the worst the best ; Like Cato gives his little Senate Laws, And fits attentive to his own Applause ; While Wits and Templars ev'ry Sentence raise, And wonder with a foolish Face of Praise. What Pity, Heav'n! if such a Man there be, Who would not weep, if A

on were he ?

*MACER.

* M ACER.

WH

THEN fimple Macer, now of high Renown,

First sought a Poet's Fortune in the Town: 'Twas all th’Ambition his great Soul could feel, To wear red Stockings, and to dine with StSome Ends of Verse his Betters might afford, And gave the harmless Fellow a good Word. Set up

with these, he ventur’d on the Town, And in a borrow'd Play, out-did poor Cr. There he stopt short, nor since has writ a Tittle, But has the Wit to make the most of little ; Like stunted hide-bound Trees, that just have got Sufficient Sap at once to bear and rot. * Now he begs Verse, and what he gets commends, Not of the Wits his Foes, but Fools his Friends.

So some coarse Country Wench, almoft decay'd, Trudges to Town, and first turns Chamber-maid; Aukward and supple, cach Devoir to pay, She flatters her good Lady twice a Day; Thought wondrous honest, tho' of mean Degree, And strangely lik’d for her Simplicity:

* He requefled by publick Advertisements, the Aid of the Ingenious, to make up a Miscellang in 1713.

In a translated Suit, then tries the Town,
With borrow'd Pins, and Patches not her own;
But just endur'd the Winter she began,
And in four Months, a batter'd Harridan.
Now nothing's left, but wither'd, pale, and shrunk,
To bawd for others, and go Shares with Punk.

* SYLVIA, a Fragment.

, Aw'd without Sense, and without Beauty

charm’d,
But some odd Graces, and fine Flights, she had,
Was just not ugly, and was just not mad;
Her Tongue still run on Credit from her Eyes,
More

pert than witty, more a Wit than wise.
Good Nature, she declar'd it, was her Scorn,
Tho''twas by that alone she could be born.
Affronting all, yet fond of a good Name,
A Fool to Pleasure, yet a Slave to Fame ;
Now coy, and studious in no Point to fall,
Now all agog for D-

-y at a Ball :
Now deep in Taylor, and the Book of Martyrs,
No:v drinking Citron with his Grand C-

MEN,

Men, fome to Bus’ness, fome to Pleasure take, But ev'ry Woman's in her Soul a Rake. Frail, fev'rish Sex! their Fit now chills, now burns; Atheism and Superstition rule by Turns ; And the mere Heathen in her carnal Part, Is itill a sad good Christian at her Heart.

* ARTIMESI A.

TH

HO' Artimefia talks, by Fits,

Of Councils, Classicks, Fathers, Wits ;
Reads Malbranche, Boyle, and Locke :
Yet in some Things, methinks, she fails,
'Twere well if she wou'd pare her Nails,

And wear a cleaner Smock.

Haughty and huge as High-Dutch Bride,
Such Naftiness, and so much Pride,

Are odly join'd by Fate :
On her large Squab you find her spread,
Like a fat Corpse upon a Bed,

That lies and stinks in State.

She wears no Colours (Sign of Grace)
On
any
Part
except

her Face;
All white and black beside :

Dauntless

Dauntless her Look, her Gesture proud,
Her Voice theatrically loud,

And masculine her Stride.

So have I seen, in black and white,
A prating Thing, a Magpye Height,

Majestically kalk;
A stately, worthless Animal,
That plies the Tongue, and wags the Tail,

All Flutter, Pride, and Talk.

PHRYNE

* PHRYNE. HRINE had Talents for Mankind, ,

Open she was, and unconfind, Like some free Port of Trade : Merchants unloaded here their Freight, And Agents from each foreign State,

Here first their Entry made.

Her Learning and good Breeding such,
Whether th' Italian or the Dutch,

Spaniard or French came to her ;
To all obliging the'd appear ;
Twas Si Signior, 'twas Yaw Mynbeer,

'Twas S'il vous plait, Monsieur.

Obscure

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