Sometimes it profits to conceal your end;
Name not yourself her lover, but her friend.
How many skittish girls have thus been caught?
He prov'd a lover, who a friend was thought.
Sailors by fun and wind are fwarthy made;
A tann'd complexion beft becomes their trade.
'Tis a difgrace to ploughmen to be fair;
Bluff cheeks they have, and weather-beaten hair.
Th' ambitious youth, who feeks an olive crown,
Is fun-burnt with his daily toil, and brown.
But if the lover hopes to be in grace,
Wan be his looks, and meagre be his face.
That colour from the fair compaffion draws:
She thinks you fick, and thinks herself the cause.
Orion wander'd in the woods for love:
His palenefs did the nymphs to pity move;
His ghaftly vifage argu'd hidden love.
Nor fail a night-cap, in full health, to wear;
Neglect thy drefs, and difcompofe thy hair.
All things are decent, that in love avail:
Read long by night, and ftudy to be pale:
Forfake your food, refufe your needful reft;
Be miferable, that you may be blest.
Shall I complain, or fhall I warn you most?
Faith, truth, and friendship in the world are loft;
A little and an empty name they boaft.
Truft not thy friend, much lefs thy miftrefs praife;
If he believe, thou may'ft a rival raise.
'Tis true, Patroclus, by no luft misled,
Sought not to ftain his dear companion's bed.
Nor Pylades Hermione embrac'd;
E'en Phædra to Pirithous ftill was chafte.
But hope not thou, in this vile age, to find
Those rare examples of a faithful mind.
The fea fhall fooner with fweet honey flow;
Or from the furzes pears and apples grow.
We fin with guft, we love by fraud to gain ;
And find a pleasure in our fellow's pain.
From rival foes you may the fair defend;
But, would you ward the blow, beware your friend:
Beware your brother, and your next of kin ;
But from your bofom-friend your care begin.
Here I had ended, but experience finds,
That fundry women are of fundry minds;
With various crotchets fill'd, and hard to please:
They therefore must be caught by various ways.
All things are not produc'd in any foil;
This ground for wine is proper, that for oil.
So 'tis in men, but more in womankind:
Diff'rent in face, in manners, and in mind:
But wife men fhift their fails with every wind:
As changeful Proteus vary'd oft his fhape,
And did in fundry forms and figures 'fcape;
A running stream, a ftanding tree became,
A roaring lion, or a bleating lamb.
Some fish with harpons, fome with darts are ftruck,
Some drawn with nets, fome hang upon the hook:
So turn thyfelf; and imitating them,
Try fev'ral tricks, and change thy ftratagem.
One rule will not for diff'rent ages hold;
The jades grow cunning, as they grow more old,
Then talk not bawdy to the bafhful maid;
Broad words will make her innocence afraid.
Nor to an ign'rant girl of learning fpeak;
She thinks you conjure, when you talk in Greek.
And hence 'tis often feen, the fimple fhun
The learn'd, and into vile embraces run.
Part of my tafk is done, and part to do:
But here tis time to reft myself and you.
OR mighty wars I thought to tune my lute, And make my measures to my subject suit. Six feet for ev'ry verfe the mufe defign'd: But Cupid, laughing, when he faw my mind, From ev'ry fecond verfe a foot purloin'd. Who gave thee, boy, this arbitrary sway, On fubjects, not thy own, commands to lay, Who Phoebus only and his laws obey? 'Tis more abfurd than if the Queen of Love Should in Minerva's arms to battle move; Or manly Pallas from that queen should take Her torch, and o'er the dying lover fake. In fields as well may Cynthia fow the corn, Or Ceres wind in woods the bugle-horn. As well may Phoebus quit the trembling ftring, For fword and shield; and Mars may learn to fing? Already thy dominions are too large;
Be not ambitious of a foreign charge.
If thou wilt reign o'er all, and ev'ry where,
The God of Mufick for his harp may fear.
Thus when with foaring wings I seek renown,
Thou pluck'ft my pinions, and I flutter down.
Could I on fuch mean thoughts my Mufe employ,
I want a mistrefs or a blooming boy.
Thus I complain'd: his bow the stripling bent,
And chose an arrow fit for his intent.
The fhaft his pupofe fatally purfues;
Now, poet, there's a subject for thy Muse.
He faid too well, alas, he knows his trade;
For in my breast a mortal wound he made.
(Far hence, ye proud hexameters, remove)
My verse is pac'd and trammel'd into love,
With myrtle wreaths my thoughtful brows inclofe,
While in unequal verse I fing my woes.
To his mistress, whofe husband is invited to a feaft with them. The poet infîructs her how to behave herself in his company.
YOUR hufband will be with us at the treat;
May that be the laft fupper he shall eat.
And am poor I a guest invited there,
Only to fee, while he may touch the fair?
To fee you kifs and hug your naufeous lord,
While his leud hand defcends below the board?
Now wonder not that Hippodamia's charms,
At fuch a fight, the Centaurs urg'd to arms;
That in a rage they threw their cups afide,
Affail'd the bridegroom, and would force the bride.
I am not half a horse, (I would I were)
Yet hardly can from you my hands forbear.
Take then my counfel; which, obferv'd, may be
Of fome importance both to you and me.
Be fure to come before your man be there;
There's nothing can be done; but come howe'er.
Sit next him (that belongs to decency)
But tread upon my foot in paffing by.
Read in my looks what filently they speak,
And flily, with your eyes, your answer make.
My lifted eye-brow fhall declare my pain;
My right-hand to his fellow fhall complain;
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