Графични страници
PDF файл
ePub

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
And born to write, converfe, and live with Ease;
Should fuch 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 rife;
Damn with faint Praife, affent with civil Leer,
And without fneering, teach the reft to fneer;
Wishing to wound, and yet afraid to ftrike,
Juft hint a Fault, and hesitate Diflike;
Alike referv'd to blame, or to commend,
A tim'rous Foe, and a suspicious Friend.
Dreading ev'n Fools, by Flatterers befieg'd,
And fo obliging that he ne'er oblig'd:
Who, if two Wits on rival Themes conteft,
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 fuch a Man there be,
Who would not weep, if An were he ?

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;
But juft endur'd the Winter fhe began,

And in four Months, a batter'd Harridan.
Now nothing's left, but wither'd, pale, and fhrunk,
To bawd for others, and go Shares with Punk.

*SYLVIA, a Fragment.

YLVIA my Heart in wond'rous wife alarm'd,
Aw'd without Senfe, and without Beauty

charm'd,

But fome odd Graces, and fine Flights, fhe had,
Was juft not ugly, and was just not mad;

Her Tongue still run on Credit from her Eyes,
More pert than witty, more a Wit than wife.
Good Nature, fhe declar'd it, was her Scorn,
Tho' 'twas by that alone fhe 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,

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 ;
Atheism and Superftition rule by Turns;

And the mere Heathen in her carnal Part,
Is ftill a fad good Chriftian at her Heart.

*ARTIMESIA.

'HO' Artimefia talks, by Fits,

TH

Of Councils, Clafficks, Fathers, Wits;
Reads Malbranche, Boyle, and Locke:
Yet in fome Things, methinks, the fails,
'Twere well if she wou'd pare her Nails,
And wear a cleaner Smock.

Haughty and huge as Higb-Dutch Bride,
Such Naftinefs, and fo much Pride,
Are odly join'd by Fate:

On her large Squab you find her spread,
Like a fat Corpfe upon a Bed,

That lies and ftinks in State.

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

All white and black befide:

Dauntless

[ocr errors]

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

And mafculine her Stride.

So have I feen, in black and white,
A prating Thing, a Magpye Height,
Majestically stalk;

A ftately, worthless Animal,

That plies the Tongue, and wags the Tail,
All Flutter, Pride, and Talk.

*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,
Whether th' Italian or the Dutch,
Spaniard or French came to her;
To all obliging she'd appear;

'Twas Si Signior, 'twas Yaw Mynbeer,

'Twas S'il vous plaift, Monfieur.

Obfcure

« ПредишнаНапред »