PEACE to all fuch! but were there one whofe Fires Apollo kindled, and fair Fame inspires, Bleft with each Talent, and each Art to please MACER. WHE *MACE R. HEN fimple Macer, now of high Renown, First fought a Poet's Fortune in the Town: 'Twas all th' Ambition his great Soul could feel, To wear red Stockings, and to dine with St Some 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 Crn. There he stopt fhort, nor fince 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. poor *Now he begs Verfe, and what he gets commends, Not of the Wits his Foes, but Fools his Friends. So fome coarfe Country Wench, almost decay'd, Trudges to Town, and first turns Chamber-maid; Aukward and fupple, cach Devoir to pay, She flatters her good Lady twice a Day; Thought wond'rous honeft, tho' of mean Degree, And strangely lik'd for her Simplicity: *He requefied by publick Advertisements, the Aid of the Ingenious, to make up a Mifcellany in 1713. In a tranflated Suit, then tries the Town, With borrow'd Pins, and Patches not her own; And in four Months, a batter'd Harridan. *SYLVIA, a Fragment. YLVIA my Heart in wond'rous wife alarm'd, charm'd, But fome odd Graces, and fine Flights, fhe had, Her Tongue still run on Credit from her Eyes, Now all agog for D— -y at a Ball: Now deep in Taylor, and the Book of Martyrs, Now drinking Citron with his Grand C. MEN, MEN, fome to Bus'nefs, fome to Pleasure take, But ev'ry Woman's in her Soul a Rake. Frail, fev'rifh Sex! their Fit now chills, now burns ; And the mere Heathen in her carnal Part, *ARTIMESIA. 'HO' Artimefia talks, by Fits, TH Of Councils, Clafficks, Fathers, Wits; Haughty and huge as Higb-Dutch Bride, On her large Squab you find her spread, That lies and ftinks in State. She wears no Colours (Sign of Grace) All white and black befide: Dauntless Dauntless her Look, her Gesture proud, And mafculine her Stride. So have I feen, in black and white, A ftately, worthless Animal, That plies the Tongue, and wags the Tail, *PHRYN E. PHRYNE had Talents for Mankind, Open fhe was, and unconfin'd, Like fome 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 fuch, 'Twas Si Signior, 'twas Yaw Mynbeer, 'Twas S'il vous plaift, Monfieur. Obfcure |