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THE FEMALE COTERIE.

By nature turn’d to play the rake well (As we shall show you in the sequel), The modern dame is wak’d by noon (Some anthors say not quite so soon), Because, though sore against her will, She sat all night op at quadrille. She stretches, gapes, unglues her eyes, And asks if it be time to rise ; Of beadach and the spleen complains ; And then, to cool her heated brains, Her night-gown and her slippers brought her, Takes a large dram of citron water. Then to her glass ; and · Betty, pray Don't I look frightfully to-day? But was it not confounded hard ? Well, if I ever touch a card ! Four mattadores and lose codill! Depend upon't, I never will. But sun to Tom, and bid him fix The ladies here to-night by six.' 'Madam, the goldsmith waits below: He says, his business is to know, If you'll redeem the silver cup He keeps in pawn?_Why show him up.' 'Your dressing-plate he'll be content To take for intrest cent per cent. And, madam, there's my lady Spade Hath sent this letter by her maid.'

Well, I remember what she won; And hath she sent so soon to dun? Here, carry down those ten pistoles My husband left to pay for coals:

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I thank my stars they all are right,
And I may have revenge to-night.'
Now, loit'ring o'er her tea and cream,
She enters on her usual theme;
Her last night's ill success repeats,
Calls lady Spade a hundred cheats:
• She slipp'd spadillo in her breast,
Then thought to turn it to a jest:
There's Mrs. Cut and she combine,
And to each other give the sign.'
Through ev'ry game pursues her tale,
Like hunters o'er their ev'ning ale.

Now to another scene gives place:
Enter the folks with silks and lace:
Fresh matter for a world of chat,
' Right India this, right Mechlin that:'

Observe this pattern; there's a staff; I can have customers enough.' * Dear madam, you are grown so hardThis lace is worth twelve pounds a yard.' *Madam, if there be truth in man, I never sold so cheap a fan.'

This business of importance o'er, And madam almost dress'd by four, The footman, in his usual phrase, Comes up with, Madam, divner stays: She answers, in her usual style, • The cook must keep it back awhile : I never can have time to dress : No woman breathing takes up less ; I'm hurried so, it makes me sick; I wish the dinner at old Nick.' At table now she acts her part, Has all the dinner cant by heart;

'I thought we were to dine alone,
My dear; for sure if I had known
This company would come to day-
But really 'tis my spouse's way;
He's so unkind, he never sends
To tell when he invites his friends;
I wish ye may but have enough.'
And while with all this paltry stuff
She sits tormenting ev'ry guest,
Nor gives her tongue one moment's rest,
In phrases batter'd, stale, and trite,
Which modern ladies call polite;
You see the booby husband sit
In admiration at her wit!

But let me now awhile survey
Our madam o'er her ev'ning tea;
Surrounded with her noisy clans
Of prudes, coquets, and harridans;
When, frighted at the clam'rous crew,
Away the god of silence few,
And fair Discretio left the place,
And Modesty, with blushing face:
Now enters overweening Pride,
And Scandal ever gaping wide;
Hypocrisy with frown severe,
Scurrility with gibing air;
Rude Laughter, seeming like to burst,
And Malice always judging worst;
And Vanity with pocket-glass,
And Impudence with front of brass ;
And studied Affectation came,
Each limb and feature out of frame;
While Ignorance, with brain of lead,
Flew hov'ring o'er each female head. Swift.

THE FEMALE DRUM: OR, THE ORIGIN OF CARDS.

A TALE.

ADDRESSED TO THE HONOURABLE MISS CARPENTER.

Thou, whom to counsel is to praise,
With candour view these friendly lays,
Nor, from the vice of gaming free,
Believe the satire points at thee:
Who truth and worth betimes canst prize,
Nor yet too sprightly to be wise ;
But hear this tale of ancient time,
Nor think it vain, though told in rhyme.

Elate with wide-extended pow'r,
Sworn rivals from the natal hour,
Av’rice and Sloth, with hostile art
Contended long for woman's heart;
She, fond of wealth, afraid of toil,
Still shifted the capricious smile;
By turos, to each the heart was sold,
Now bought with ease, and now with gold;
Scarce either grasp the sov'reign sway,
When chance revers'd the prosp'rous daya
The doubtful strife was still renew'd,
Each baffled oft, but ne'er subdu'd;
When Av’rice show'd the glittering prize,
And hopes and fears began to rise,
Sloth shed on every busy sense
The gentle balm of indolence.
When Sloth had screen'd, with artful night,
The soft pavilion of delight;
Stern Av'rice, with reproachful frown,
Would scatter thorns amongst her down.

Thus each by turns the realm controlid,
Which each in turn despair'd to hold;

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At length unable to contend,
They join to choose a common friend,
To close in love the long debate,
Such love, as mutual fears create;
A friend they chose, a friend to both,
Of Avrice born, and nurs’d by Sloth;
An artful nymph, whose reign began
When Wisdom ceas'd to dwell with man;
In Wisdom's awful robes array'd,
She rules o’er politics and trade;
And by the name of cunning known,
Makes wealth, and fame, and pow'r her own.

In quest of Cunning then they rove
O’er all the windings of the grove,
Where twining boughs their shade unite,
For Cunning ever flies the light:
At length through maze perplex'd with maze,
Through tracts confus’d, and private ways,
With sinking hearts and weary feet,
They gain their fav'rite's dark retreat;
There, watchful at the gate, they find
Suspicion, with her eyes behind;
And wild Alarm, awaking, blows
The trump that shakes the world's repose.

The guests well known, salute the guard,
The hundred gates are soon unbarrd;
Through half the gloomy cave they press,
And reach the wily queen's recess ;
The wily queen disturb’d, they view,
With schemes to fly though nope pursue ;
And, in perpetual care to hide,
What pone will ever seek, employ'd.

“Great queen,' they pray'd, our feuds compose, And let us never more be foes.'

VOL, V.

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