"Whence is this appetite so strong ?
66 Say, Madam, did your mother long ›
"Or is it luxury and high diet.
"That won't let virtue fleep in quiet?"
She tells him now, with meekeft voice,
That she had never err'd by choice ;
Nor was there known a virgin chaster,
Till ruin'd by a fad disaster.

That she a favourite lap-dog had,
Which (as the ftroak'd and kiss'd) grew mad ;
And on her lip a wound indenting,'

First fet her youthful blood fermenting.

The Prieft reply'd, with zealous fury, "You should have fought the means to cure ye. "Doctors by various ways, we find,

"Treat thefe diftempers of the mind.
"Let gaudy ribbands be deny'd
"To her who raves with fcornful pride;
"And, if religion crack her notions,
"Lock-up her volumes of devotions;
"But, if for man her rage prevail,
"Bar her the fight of creatures male.
"Or elfe, to cure fuch venom'd bites,
"And fet the fhatter'd thoughts arights;
"They fend you to the ocean's fhore,
"And plunge the patient o'er and o'er."

The dame reply'd, "Alas! in vain
"My kindred forc'd me to the main ;
"Naked, and in the face of day:
"Look not, ye-fishermen, this way!

"What

"What virgin had not done as I did ?
"My modeft hand, by nature guided,
"Debarr'd at once from human eyes
"The feat where female honour lies;
"And, though thrice dipt from top to toe,
"I ftill fecur'd the post below,

And guarded it with grasp so fast
"Not one drop through my fingers paft.
"Thus owe I to my bashful care,
"That all the rage is fettled there."

Weigh well the projects of mankind; Then tell me, Reader, canft thou find The man from madness wholly free?

They all are mad

fave you

and me.

Do not the statesman, fop, and wit,
By daily follies prove they're bit?
And, when the briny cure they try'd,

Some part still kept above the tide ?

Some men (when drench'd beneath the wave)

High o'er their heads their fingers fave :

Those hands by mean extortion thrive,

Or in the pocket lightly dive :
Or, more expert in pilfering vice,
They burn and itch to cog the dice.
Plunge-in a courtier; ftrait his fears
Direct his hands to stop his ears.
And now truth feems a grating noise,
He loves the flanderer's whifpering voice;

He hangs on flattery with delight,
And thinks all fulfome praise is right.
All women dread a watery death:
They shut their lips, to hold their breath ;
And, though you duck them ne'er fo long,
Not one falt drop e'er wets their tongue:
'Tis hence they fcandal have at will,
And that this member ne'er lies ftill.

THE

By the DEATH of the DUKE REGENT OF FRANCE.

HOW vain are mortal man's endeavours?
(Said, at dame Elliot's *; mafter Travers)
Good Orleans dead! in truth 'tis hard:

Oh, may all statesmen die prepar'd!
I do foresee (and for fore-seeing
He equals any man in being)

The army ne'er can be disbanded.

-I wish the King were fafely landed.

Ah, friends! great changes threat the land;
All France and England at a stand !

There's Meroweis

mark! ftrange work! And there's the Czar, and there 's the Turk;

The Pope

An India merchant by,

Cut fhort the speech with this reply:

"All at a ftand? You fee great changes?

"Ah, Sir! you never faw the Ganges.
"There dwell the nations of Quidnunki's

R (So Monomotapa calls monkies):

A coffee-houfe near St. James's.
C 4

5

ΤΟ

(On!

"On either bank, from bough to bough, "They meet and chat (as we may now).

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Whifpers go round, they grin, they fhrug, "They bow, they fnarl, they fcratch, they hug; "And, just as chance or whim provoke them, They either bite their friends, or stroke them. "There have I feen fome active prig, "To fhew his parts, bestride a twig: "Lord! how the chattering tribe admire, "Not that he 's wiser, but he 's higher : "All long to try the venturous thing "(For power is but to have one's fwing); "From fide to fide he fprings, he fpurns, "And bangs his foes and friends by turns. "Thus, as in giddy freaks he bounces, "Crack goes the twig, and in he flounces ! "Down the fwift ftream the wretch is borne; "Never, ah never, to return!

"Zounds! what a fall had our dear brother;
"Morbleu! cries one; and Damme! t'other.
"The nations give a general fcreech;

"None cocks his tail, none claws his breech;
"Each trembles for the public weal,
"And for a while forgets to fteal.

"A while, all eyes, intent and fteddy,
"Purfue him, whirling down the eddy.
"But, out of mind when out of view,
"Some other mounts the twig anew;
"And bufinefs, on each monkey-fhore,

Runs the fame track it went before."

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FABLES.