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For breath and fingers did their works
Unless he makes it demonstration,
The company were come, when Vulcan hopping, His whole complexion was a sallow,
And for his key in left-side pocket groping, Where black had not destroy'd the yellow. Cries, “ 'Tis but opening of that door, One foot was clump'd, which was the stronger, “ To prove myself a cuckold, her a whore." The other spiny, thoagh much longer;
They all desir'd bis leave that they might go; So both to the proportion come
They were not curious of so vile a show : Of the fore-finger and the thumb.
Persons concerned might one another see, In short, the whole of him was nasty,
And they'd believe since witnesses were three. Jll-naturd, vain, imperious, hasty:
And they, thus prov'd to be such foolish elves, Deformity alike took place
Might hear, try, judge, and e'en condemn themBoth in his manners and his face.
selves. Venus had perfect shape and size :
Discretion covers that which it would blame, But then she was not over-wise:
Until some secret blush and hidden shame For sometimes she her knee is crimping, Have cur'd the fault without the noise of fame. To imitate th’ old man in limping.
The work is done: and now let Ovid have Sometimes his dirty paws she scorns,
Some gratitude attending on his grave; Whilst her fair fingers show his horns.
Th’aspiring palm, the verdant laurel strow, But Mars, the bully of the place, is
And sweets of myrtle wreaths around it throw. The chiefest spark in her good graces.
In physic's art as Podalirius skill'd, At first they're shy, at last grow bolder, Nestor in court, Achilles in the field; And conjugal affection colder.
As Ajax had in single combat force, They card not what was said or done,
And as Automedon best rul'd the horse; Till impudence defy'd the Sun.
As Chalcas versed in prophecies from Jove; Vulcan was told of this; quoth he,
So Ovid has the mastership of love. “ Is there such roguery? I'll see !"
The poet's honour will be inuch the less He then an iron net prepard,
Than that which by his means you may possess Which he to the bed's tester reard;
In choice of beauty's lasting happiness. Which, when a pulley gave a snap,
But when the Amazonian quits the field, Would fall, and make a cuckold's trap.
Let this be wrote on the triumphant shield, All those he plac'd in the best room,
That she by Ovid's art was brought to yield. Then feign'd that he must go from home; When Ovid's thoughts in British style you see, For he at Lemnos forges had,
Which mayn't so sounding as the Roman be; And none but he to mind the trade.
Yet then admittance grant: 'tis fame to me.
Will make Penthesilea's force as brave:
That both, becoming glorious to the sight, Thetis, the oyster-woman's daughter;
With equal arms may hold a dubious fight. Pluto, that chimney-sweeping sloven;
What though 'twas Vulcan fram'd Achilles' shield, With Proserpine hot from her oven;
My Amazonian darts shall make him yield. And Mercury, that's sharp and cunning A myrtle-crown with victory attends In stealing customs and in running;
Those who are Cupid's and Dione's friends. And Dy the midwife, though a virgin ;
When Beauty bas so many arms in store, And Æsculapius, the surgeon;
(Some men will say) why should you give it more! Apollo, who might be physician,
Tell me who, when Penelope appears Or serve them else for a musician.
With constancy maintain'd for twenty years. The piper Pan, to play her up;
Who can the fair Laodamia see And Bacchus, with his chirping cup;
In her lord's arms expire as well as he; And Hercules should bring his club in,
Can view Alcestis, who with joy removes To give the rogue a lusty drubbing ;
From Earth, instead of him she so much loves; And all the Cupids should be by,
Can hear of bright Evadne, who, in fires
For her lov'd Capaneus prepard, expires;
So Truth, so Goodness, Piety, and Fame,
Would headstrong fight and would not conquerid People, you know, will little mind it.
Or stoop to so much generosity? They love to tell what no one knows,
'Tis not with sword, or fire, or strength of bow, And they themselves only suppose. .
That female warriors to their battle go: Not every husband can afford
They have no stratagem, or subtile wile; To be a cuckold on record;
Their native innocence can ne'er beguile : Nor should he be a cuckold stylid,
The fox's various maze, bear's cruel den, That once or so has been beguild,
They leave to fierceness and the craft of men.
Twas Jason that transferr'd his broken vows She saw all, heard all, never idle;
Her fingers or her tongue would fiddle;
Diverting with a kind of wit, Prey to the birds, or monsters of the sea :
Aiming at all, would sometimes hit; Demophoon, nine times recall'd, forbore
Though in her sort of rambling way Return, and let his Phyllis name the shore. She many a serious truth would say., Æneas wreckt, and hospitably us'd,
Thus in much talk among the rest Fam'd for his piety, yet still refus'd
The oracle itself exprest : To stay where lov'd, but left the dangerous sword “I've heard some cry, Well, I profess By which she died to whom he broke his word. There's nothing to be gain'd by dress! Piteous examples! worthy better fate,
They might as well say that a field,
Uncultivated, yet would yield
Good shape and air, it is confest,
There is distinction in our faces. 'Thou hast given weapons to her enemy?
There was a time I'd not repine
Thanks to my art as well as care!
Content with their own cloth and stuff; 'Tis by the ladies' favours you must live."
With hats upon their pates like hives; She then one mystic leaf with berries four Things might become such soldiers' wives; (Pluckt from her myrtle-crown) bade. me with Thought their own faces still would last them speed devour.
In the same mould which Nature cast them, I find the power inspir'd; through purer sky Dark paper buildings then stood thick; My breath dissolves in verse, to make young No palaces of stone or brick: lovers die.
And then, alas! were no exchanges: Here Modesty and Innocence shall learn
But see how time and fashion changes! How they may truth from tlattering speech discern. I hate old things and age. I see, But come with speed ; lose not the flying day. Thank Heaven, times good enough for me. See how the crowding waves roll down away, Your goldsmiths now are mighty neat: And neither, though at Lore's command, will stay. I love the air of Lombard-street. These waves and time we never can recall;
Whate'er a ship from India brings, But, as the minutes pass, must lose them all. Pearls, diamonds, silks, are pretty things. Nor like what's past are days succeeding good, The cabinet, the screen, the fan, But slide with warmth decay'd and thicker blood. Please me extremely, if Japan: Flora, although a goddess, yet does fear
And, what affects me still the more, The change that grows with the declining year; They had none of them heretofore. Whilst glistering snakes, by casting off their skin, When you 're unmarried, never load ye Fresh courage gain, and life renewd begin. With jewels; they may incommode ye. The eagles cast their bills, the stag its horn; Lovers mayn't dare approach; but mostly But Beauty to that blessing is not born.
They'll fear when married you'll be costly. Thus Nature prompts its use to forward love, Fine rings and lockets best are tried, Grac'd by examples of the powers above.
When given to you as a bride.
By going fine at small expense.
Sometimes lay down in favourite curl :
All must through twenty fiddlings pass,
Which none can teacb you but your glass: A PERSON of some quality
Sometimes they must dishevelld lie Happen'd, they say, in love to be
On neck of polish'd ivory: With one who held him by delay,
Sometimes with strings of pearl they're fix'd, Would neither say him no or ay;
And the united beauty mix'd; Nor would she have him go his way.
Or, when you won't their grace unfold, This lady thought it best to send
Secure them with a bar of gold. For some experienc'd trusty friend,
Humour and fashions change each day; To whom she might ber mind impart,
Not birds in forests, flowers in May, Tunchain her own, and bind his heart;
Would sooner pumber'd be than they. A tire-woman by occupation,
There is a sort of negligence, 4 useful and a choice vocation.
Which some esteem as excellence,
Your art with so much art to hide,
Her carelessness and her defect That nothing of it be descried;
Were laid to mistress Prue's neglect; To make your careless tresses flow
And much ill-nature was betray'd, With so much air, that none should know
By noise and scolding with the maid. Whether they had been comb'd or no.
“ The youn: look on such things as stuff, But, in this so neglected hair,
"Thinking their bloom has art enough. Many a heart has found its spare.
Wben, smooth, we matter it not at all; Nature indeed has kindly sent
'Tis when the Thames is rough, we squall. U• many things; more we invent:
But, whate'er 'tis may be pretended, Little enough, as I may say,
No face or shape but may be mended. To keep our beauty from decay.
All have our faults, and inust abide them, As leaves that with tierce winds engage,
We therefore should take care to hide them. Our curling tresses fall with age.
Y &'re short; sit still, you'll taller scem: But then by German herbs we find
You're only shorter from the stein. Colour, for locks to grey inclin'd.
By looser garb your leanness is conceald; Sometimes we purchase hair; and why?
By want of stays the grosser shape's reveal'd. Is not all that our own we buy?
The more the blemishes upon the feet, You buy it publicly, say they:
The greater care the lace and shoes be neat. Why tell us that, when we don't pay.
Some backs and sides are wav'd like billows: Of French pomades the town is full:
These holes are best made up with pillows. Praise leasen, no want of Spanish wool!
Thick fingers always should command Let them look fusht, let them look dead,
Without the stretching out the hand, That can't afford the white and red.
Who bas bad teeth should never see . In Covent Garden you buy posies,
A play, unless a tragedy: There we our lifies and our roses.
For we can teach you how to simper, Who would a charming eye-brow lack,
And when 'tis proper you should whimper. Who can get any thing that's black?,
Think that your grace and wit is now Let not these boxes open lie:
Not in your langhing at a thing, but bow. Some folks are too much given to pry.
Let room for something more than breath, Art not dissembled would disgrace
Just show the ends of milk-white teeth. The purchas'd beauties of our face:
There is a je n’ scui quoi is found This if such persons should discover,
In a soft mooth affected sound: Tvould rather lose than gain a lover.
But there's a shricking crying tone, Who is there now but understands
Which I ne'er lik'd, when all is done: Starcloths to flea the face or hands?
And there are some, who laugh like men, Though the idea 's not so taking,
As ne'er to shut their mouths again; And the skin seems but odd in making,
So very loud and mal-propos, Yet, when 'twill with fresh lustre shine,
They seem like hautboys to a show. Her spark will tell you 'tis divine.
But now for the reverse: 'tis skill That picture there your eye does strike;
To let your tears flow when you will. It is the work of great Van Dyck,
It is of use when people die; Which by a Roman would be sainted:
Or else to have the spleen, and cry, What was 't but canvas till 'twas painted? Because you have no reason wby. There's several things should not be known:
“Now for your talk-come, let me see! O'er these there is a curtain drawn,
Here lose your H, here drop your T; Tiil'tis their season to be shown.
Despise that R: your speech is better Your door on fit occasions keep
Much for destroying of one letter. Fast shut: who knows but you're asleep?
Now lisp, and have a sort of pride When our teeth, colour, hair, and eyes,
To seem as if your tongue were tied: And what else at the toilet lies,
This is such a becoming fault, Are all put on, we 're said to rise.
Rather than want, it should be taught. “ There was a lady whom I knew,
“ And now that you have learnt to talk, That must be nameless, 'cause 'tis true,
Pray let me see if you can walk. Who had the disinalest mischance
There's many dancing-masters treat I've heard of since I was in France:
Of management of ladies feet, I do protest, the thoughts of it
There's some their mincing gait have chose, Have almost put me in a fit.
Treading without their heel or toes. Old lady Meanwell's chamber-door,
She that reads Tasso, or Malherbe 9, Just on the stairs of the first floor,
Chooses a step that is superbe. Stood open: and pray who should come,
Some giddy creatures, as if shunning But Knowall, flouncing in the room?
Something dislik'd, are always running. No single hair upon her head:
Some prance like French woined, who ride, I thought she would have fell down dead.
As our life-guard men, all astride.
9 By the manner in which Tasso and Malherbe That every lock was out of place,
are mentioned by Dr. King, they seem not to And all hung dangling down her face,
have been the most fashionable authors of that I would not mortify one so,
Our author bas translated what he calls Except some twenty that I know.
An Incomparable Ode of Malherbe, · N.
But each of these have decoration
And might have grown prodigious old, According to their affectation.
And never had her story told. That dance is graceful, and will please,
'Tis fit fair maids should run a-gadding, Where all the motions ylice with ease.
To set the amorous beaux a-madding. We to the skiitul theatr
To many a sheep the wolf has gone This seeming want of art prefer.
Ere it can neatly size on one; “ 'Tis no sinal art to give direction
And many a partridge scapes away How to suit knots to each complexion,
Before the hawk can pounce
prey : How to adorn the breast and head,
And so, if pretty damsels rove, With blue, white, cherry, pink, or red.
They'll find out one perhaps may love; As the morn rises, so that day
If they no diligence will spare, Wear purp'e, sky-colour, or grey:
And in their dressing still take care. Your black at Lent, your green in May;
The fisher baits his hook all night, Your filamot when leaves decay.
In hopes by chance some ecl may bite. All colours in the summer shine:
Each with their different grace appears, The nymphs sbouid be like gardens fine.
Virgins with blush, widows with tears, “it is the fashion now-a-days,
Which gain new husbands tender-hearted, That almost every lady plays.
Tu think how such a couple parted. Basset and piquet grow to be
But then there are some foppish beaux The subject of our comedy:
Like us in all things but their clothes; But whether we diversion seek
That we may seem the more robust, In these, in comet, or in gleek,
Ind fittest to accost them first: Or ombre, where true judgment can
With powder, paint, false locks, and hair, Disclose the sentiments of man;
They give themselves a female air; Let's have a care how we discover,
Who, having all their tale by rote, Especially before a lorer,
And harping still on the same note, Some passions which we should conceal,
Will tell us that, and nothing more But beats of play too oft' reveal ;
Than what a thousand heard before. For, be the matter small or great,
Though they all marks of love pretend, There's like abhorrence for a cheat.
There's nothing which they less intend: There's nothing spoils a woman's graces
And, 'inidst a thousand hideous oaths, Like peevishness and making faces :
With jewels false and borrow'd clothes, Then angry words and rude discourse,
Our easiness may give belief You may be sure, become them worse.
To one that is an errant thief.” With hopes of gain when we're beset,
The spark was coming; she, undrest,
Scuttles away as if possest.
Why, madam, l’ve but just begun.” l'd burn the cards, rather than know
She bawls; the other nothing hears, Of any of my friends did so:
But leaves ber prattling to the chairs. I've heard of some such things; but I,
Virtue, without these little arts, Thanks to my stars, was never by.
At first subdues, then keeps, our hearts: “ Thus we may pass our time: the men And though more gracefully it shows A thousand ways divert their spleen,
When it from lovely persons fluws; Whilst we sit peevishly within;
Yet often goodness most prevails Hunting, cucking, racing, joking,
When beauty in perfection fails. Fuddling, swimming, fencing, smoking;
Though every feature mayn't be well, And little thinking how poor we
Yit all together may excel. Must vent our scandal o'er our tea.
There's nothing but will easy prove,
When all the rest's made up by love.
VIRGINs should not unskill'd in music be;
For what's inore like themselves than harmony? Or when tiey'll lustily rarouse,
Let not Vice use it only to betray, We'll surely to the Indian house:
As Syrens by their songs entice their prey. And at such cost whilst thus we roam,
Let it with sense, with voice, and beauty join, For cheapness sake they'll stay at home. Grateful to eyes and ear, and to the mind divine: Piw wise men's thoughts per yet pursued For there's a double grace when pleasing strings That which their eyes had never view'd:
Are touch'd by her that more delightful sings. And so our never being seen
Thos Orpheus did the rage of di serts qael', Is the same thing as not t' have been.
And charm'd the monstrous instruments of Hell. Grandeur itself and poverty
New walls to Thebes Amphion thus began, Were equal if no witness by:
Whilst to the work oflicious marble ran. And they who always sing alone
Thus with his barp and voice Arion rude Can ne'er be prais'd by more than one.
On the mute fish safe through the rolling flood. Had Danaë been shut up still,
Nor are the essays of the female wit She'd been a maid against ber will,
Less charming in the verses they have writ.
From ancient ages, love has found the way But they, o'er whom Apollo rules, have hearts Its bashful thoughts by letters to convey ;
The most susceptible of lovers' smarts, Which sometimes run in such engaging strain, And, like their god, so they feel Cupid's darts : Tat pitv makes the fair write back again. The gods and kings are by their labours prais'd; What's thus intended, some small time delay: And they again by them to honour rais'd: His passion strengthens rather by our stay. For none to Heaven or majesty exprest Then with a cautious wit your pen withhold, Their duty well, but in return were blest. Lest a tvo free expression make him bold. Nor did the mighty Scipio think it scorn, Create a inixture 'twixt his hope and fear,
That Ennius, in Calabrian mountains born, And io reproof let tenderness appear.
His wars, retirements, councils, should attend, As he deserves it give him hopes of life:
In all distinguish'd by the name of friend. A cruel mistress makes a froward wife.
He that, for want of worlds to conquer, wept, Affect not foreign words : love will impart Without consulting Homer never slept. A gentle style more excellent than art.
The poet's cares all terminate in fame; Astrea's' lines flow on with so much ease,
As they obtain, they give, a lasting name. That she who writes like them must surely please. Thus from the dead Lucrece and Cynthia rise, Orinda'sa works, with courtly graces stor'd, And Berenice's hair adorns the skies, True sense in nice expressions will afford: The sacred bard no treacherous craft displays, Whilst Chudleigh's3 words seraphic thoughts ex But virtuous actions crowns with his own bays. In lofty grandeur, but without excess. (press Far from ambition and wealth's sordid care, Oh, had not Beauty parts enough to wound, In him good-nature and content appear: But it must pierce us with poetic sound;
And far from courts, from studious parties free, Whilst Phæbus suffers female powers to tear He sighs forth Laura's charms beneath some tree; Wreaths from his Daphne, which they justly wear! | Despairing of the valued prize he loves, If greater things to lesser we compare,
Commits his thoughts to winds and echoing groves. The skill of love is like the art of war.
Poets have quick desire and passion strong; The general says, “ Let him the borse command: Where once it lights, there it continues long. You by that ensign, you that cannon stand: They know that truth is the perpetual band, Where danger calls, let t'other bring supplies.” By which the world and Heaven of love must stand. With pleasure all obey, in hopes to rise.
The poet's art softens their tempers so, So, if you have a servant skill'd in laws,
That manners easy as their verses flow. Send him with moving speech to plead your cause. Oh, could they but just retribution find, He that has native unaffected voice,
And as themselves what they adore be kind ! In singing what you bid him, will rejoice.
In vain they boast of their celestial fire, (aspire! And wealth, as Beauty orders it, bestow'd, Whilst there remains a Heaven to which they can't Would make ev'n misers in expenses proud. Apelles first brought Venus to our view,
With blooming charms and graces ever new, " A name assumed by Mrs. Aphra Behn, a lady Who else unknown to mortals might remain, well known in the gay and poetical world in the Hid in the caverns of her native main : licentious reign of king Charles II. She was And with the painter now the poets join authoress of seventeen plays, two volumes of To make the mother and her boy divine. novels, several translations, and many poems. N. Therefore attend, and from their music learn
2 The poetical name of Mrs. Catharine Philips. That which their minds inspird could best discern. She was the daughter of John Fowler, merchant, First see how Sidney, then how Cowley mov'd, and born in London 1631; was married to James And with what art it was that Waller lov'd. Philips, of the Priory of Cardigan, esq. about the Forget not Dorset, in whose generous mind year 1647; and died in Fleet-street, in the month Love, sense, wit, honour, every grace combin'd; of June 1664. Her poems have been several And if for me you one kind wish would spare, times printed. She was also the writer of a Answer a poet to his friendly prayer. volume of letters, published many years after her Take Stepney's verse, with candour ever blest; death, to sir Charles Cotterel, entitled, Letters For love will there still with his ashes rest. from Orinda to Poliarchus; which have been ad-There let warm spice and fragrant odours burn, mired. Mrs. Philips was as much fained for her And everlasting sweets perfume bis urn. friendship, as for her poetry; and had the good Not that the living Muse is to be scorn'd: fortune to be equally esteemed by the best poet Britain with equal worth is still adorn'd. and the best divine of h r age. Dr. Jeremy Tay- See Halifax, where sense and honour mixt Jor addressed his discourse on the Nature and Upon the merits just reward have fixt: Effects of Friendship to this lady; and Mr. Cow. And read their works, who, writing in his praise, ley has celebrated her memory, in an elegant ode To their own verse inmortal laurels raise. preserved amongst bis works. N.
Learn Prior's lines; for they can teach you more 3 This lady was daughter to Richard Lee, of Than sacred Ben, or Spenser, did before: Winslade, in the county of Devon, esq
She was And mark him well that uncouth physic's art born in the year 1656; became the wife of sir Can in the softest tune of wit impart. George Chudleigh, of Ashton, in the same county, See Pastoreila o'er Florello's grave, bart.; and died Dec. 15, 1710. Her poems were See Tamerlane make Bajazet his slave; twice printed in her lifetime in one volume Svo. | And Phædra with her ancient vigour rave. the second edition in 1709. She also published a Through Rapin's nurseries and gardens walk, volume of essavs upon several subjects in prose And find how nymphs transform'd by amorous and verse, 1710. N.