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I trust, by art and more polite address,
You fairer advocates met more success ;
And not a man compaffion's cause withstood,
When beauty pleaded for such general good.
MARTIAL, Book IV. Ep. 87.
Ou'dft thou, by Attic tafte approv'd,
By all be read, by all be loy'd,
To learned Harris' curious eye,
By me advis'd, dear Muse, apply:
In him the perfect judge you'll find,
In him the candid friend, and kind.
If he repeats, if he approves,
If he the laughing muscles moves,
Thou nor the critic's sneer shal'st mind,
Nor be to pies or trunks consign'd.
If he condemns, away you fly,
And mount in paper kites the sky,
Or dead 'mongst Grub-street's records lye.
Book I. Ep. 11.
Carmudgeon the rich widow courts,
Nor lovely she, nor made for sports ;
'Tis to Curmudgeon charm enough,
That she has got a church-yard cough.
Book III. Ep. 43. Before a swan, behind a crow, Such self-deceit ne'er did I know. Ah! cease your arts
death knows you're grey, And spite of all, will keep his day,
Book IV. Ep. 78.
With lace bedizen'd comes the man,
And I must dine with lady Anne.
A silver service loads the board,
Of eatables a slender hoard.
Your pride, and not your victuals [pare; “ I came to dine, and not to ftare.
Book VII. Ep. 75.
When dukes in town ask thee to dine,
To rule their roast, and smack their wine ;
Or take thee to their country-seat,
To make their dogs, and bless their meat;
dream not on preferment soon,
Thou'rt not their friend, but their buffoon,
Book VIII. Ep. 35.
Alike in temper and in life,
A drunken husband, sottish wife,
She a scold, a bully he,
The devil's in't, they don't agree.
Book XII. Ep. 23.
Your teeth from Hemmet, and your hair from Bolney,
Was not an eye too to be had for money?
Book XII. Ep. 30.
Ned is a fober fellow, they pretend
Such wou'd I have my coachman, not my friend.
Book XII. Ep 103.
You sell your wife's rich jewels, lace, and cloaths;
The price once pay'd, away the purchase goes :
But she a better bargain proves, I'm told ;
Still fold returns, and still is to be sold.
Book I. Ep. 40.
Is there, t'enroll amongst the friendly few,
Whose names pure faith and ancient fame renew ?
Is there, enrich'd with Virtue's honest store,
Deep vers’d in Latian and Athenian lore ?
Is there, who right maintains and truth pursues,
Nor knows a wish that heaven can refuse?
Is there, who can on his great
self depend? Now let me die, but Harris is this friend.
A very gallant Copy of Verses, (but fomewhat
filly) upon the Ladies, and their fine Cloaths at a Ball.
APPY the worms, that spun their lives away,
T'enrich the fplendour of this glorious day!
Well pleas'd these gen'rous foreigners expire,
A facrifice to Beauty's general fire.
Oh! had they seen, with what superior grace
Beauty here triumphs in each lovely face,
Their am'rous flames had their own work betray'd,
And burn'd the web their curious art had made !
Another on the same Subject, written with more
Judgment, but fewer good Manners.
row (trangely doth the pow'r of custom rule,
And prejudice our wifeft thoughts controul !
How does one country with contempt deride
What other nations count their chiefest pride!
Our European ladies think they're fine,
When in the entrails of a worm they shine;
Yet laugh to see conceited Hottentots
Grow vain, tho'shining in far nobler guts.
In tu.gid pomp their strutting limbs are deck'd,
And unetuous fplendours from their robes reflect:
The balmy glofs, which on the surface shines,
Regales the smell, and smooths the ladies' kins,
Richly, yet wisely dress’d! for of the cost
They suffer not a remnant to be lost;
But eat each tatter, as it wears away,
And sup upon the fragments of the day.
Frugal of time, at once they' undress and feed,
Gnaw off their cloaths, and put themselves to bed,
Their wedding garments prove their wedding feafts,
And the bride's fin'ry entertains the guests: