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soul! 240

Shov'd from the wall perhaps, or rudely press’d
By his own son, that passes by unbless’d:
Still to his wench he crawls on knocking knees,
And envies ev'ry sparrow that he sees.

A falmon's belly, Helluo, was thy fate;
The doctor call'd, declares all help too late :

Mercy! cries Helluo, mercy on my “ Is there no hope ?-Alas !—then bring the jowl.”

The frugal Crone, whom praying priests attend, Still tries to save the hallow'd taper's end, Collects her breath, as ebbing life retires, For one puff more, and in that puff expires. 245

“ Odious ! in woollen ! 'twould a Saint provoke, (Were the last words that

poor

Narcissa (poke) No, let a charming Chintz, and Brussels lace Wrap my cold limbs, and shade

my

lifeless face:

COMMENTARY. Courtier, the Miser, and the Patriot; which last instance the poet has had the art, under the appearance of Satire, to turn into the noblest Compliment on the person to whom the Epistle is addrefled.

NOTES. Ver. 247. -- the last words attribute this in particular to a that poor Narcisa spoke)] This very celebrated Actress, who, story, as well as the others, is in deteftation of the thought of founded on fact, tho' the au- being buried in woollen, gave thor had the goodness not to these her last orders with her mention the names. Several | dying breath.P.

«One would not, sure, be frightfulwhen one's dead “And -- Betty-give this Cheek a little Red.”

The Courtier smooth, who forty years had thin'd An humble servant to all human kind, Just brought out this, when scarce his tongue could

stir, “If-where I'm going „I could serve you,

Sir? “I give and I devise (old Euclio faid, 256 And sigh’d) “my lands and tenements to Ned. Your money, Sir ; “ My money, Sir, what all? “Why,-- if I must-(then wept) I give it Paul. The Manor, Sir?--" The Manor! hold, he cry'd, “ Not that, I cannot part with that”-and dy’d.

And you! brave COBHAM, to the latest breath Shall feel your ruling passion strong in death: Such in those moments as in all the past,

Oh, save my Country, Heav'n!” shall be your last.

N. Blakey inw. Edel

G"Jootin fculp: InMen, we various ruling Passions find, In Women, two almost divideshe Kind);Fhose only furd, they first or last obey The Love of Pleasure, and the Sove of fway.

Char: of Wonen

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OTHING so true as what you once let fall,

" Most Women have no Characters at all.” Matter too soft a lasting mark to bear, And best distinguish'd by black, brown, or fair.

NOT E S. Of the Characters of Wo- haps account for the small acmen.] There is nothing in tention given to it. He said, Mr. Pope's works more highly that no one character in it was finished than this Epiftle: Yet drawn from the life. The its success was in no propor

Public believed him on his tion to the pains he took in word, and expressed little cucomposing it. Something he riosity about a Satire in which chanced to drop in a short Ad there was nothing personal. vertisement prefixed to it, on VER. 1. Nothing so true its first publication, may per- / 3c.] The reader perhaps may

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