All eyes may fee from what the change arose,
All eyes may fee—a Pimple on her nose.

Papillia, wedded to her am'rous spark,

Sighs for the shades-" How charming is a Park!” A Park is purchas'd, but the Fair he sees

35

4I

All bath'd in tears-" Oh odious, odious Trees !"
Ladies, like variegated Tulips, fhow;
'Tis to their Changes half their charms we owe;
Fine by defect, and delicately weak,

Their happy Spots the nice admirer take.

'Twas thus Calypfo once each heart alarm'd,
Aw'd without Virtue, without Beauty charm'd;
Her Tongue bewitch'd as odly as her Eyes,
Lefs Wit than Mimic, more a Wit than wife;
Strange graces ftill, and ftranger flights she had,
Was juft not ugly, and was juft not mad ;
Yet ne'er fo fure our paffion to create,

As when the touch'd the brink of all we hate.

NOTES.

45

50

VER. 45. III. Contrarie | ftronger fhe exerted this vities in the Cunning and Art-vacity the more forceable ful. P. must be her attraction. But VER 52. As when he the point, where it came touch'd the brink of all we to excefs, would destroy all hate.] Her charms confifted the delicacy, and expose in the fingular turn of her all the coarfnefs of fenfuavivacity; confequently the ❘lity.`

Narciffa's nature, tolerably mild,

To make a wash, would hardly stew a child;

Has ev'n been prov'd to grant a Lover's pray'r, 55 And paid a Tradefman once to make him stare; Gave alms at Eafter, in a Christian trim,

60

And made a Widow happy, for a whim.
Why then declare Good-nature is her fcorn,
When 'tis by that alone fhe can be born?
Why pique all Mortals, yet affect a name;
A fool to Pleasure, yet a slave to Fame:
Now deep in Taylor and the Book of Martyrs,
Now drinking citron with his Grace and Chartres :
Now Confcience chills her, and now Paffion burns;
And Atheism and Religion take their turns;

A very
Yet ftill a fad, good Chriftian at her heart.

Heathen in the carnal part,

See Sin in State, majestically drunk; Proud as a Peerefs, prouder as a Punk;

66

70

Chafte to her Husband, frank to all befide,

A teeming Mistress, but a barren Bride.

What then? let Blood and Body bear the fault, Her Head's untouch'd, that noble Seat of Thought:

Such this day's doctrine-in another fit

She fins with Poets thro' pure Love of Wit.
What has not fir'd her bofom or her brain?
Cæfar and Tall-boy, Charles and Charlema’ne.
As Helluo, late Dictator of the Feaft,

75

85

The Nofe of Hautgout, and the Tip of Tafte, 80
Critick'd your wine, and analyz'd your meat,
Yet on plain Pudding deign'd at-home to eat ;
So Philomedé, lect'ring all mankind
On the foft Paffion, and the Tafte refin'd,
Th'Addrefs, the Delicacy-ftoops at once,
And makes her hearty meal upon a Dunce.
Flavia's a Wit, has too much fenfe to pray;
To toaft our wants and wishes, is her way;
Nor afks of God, but of her Stars, to give
The mighty bleffing, "while we live, to live." 90

VARIATIONS.

VER. 77. What has not fir'd, &c.] in the MS.

In whofe mad brain the mixt ideas roll
Of Tall-boy's breeches, and of Cæfar's foul.

NOTES.

VER. 87. VI. Contrarieties in the Witty and Refin'd. P.

VER. 89. Nor afks of

God, but of her Stars, Death, that Opiate of the foul !] See Note on 90. of Ep. to Lord Cobham.

Then all for Death, that Opiate of the foul!
Lucretia's dagger, Rofamonda's bowl.
Say, what can cause fuch impotence of mind?
A Spark too fickle, or a Spouse too kind.
Wife Wretch! with Pleasures too refin'd to please;
With too much Spirit to be e'er at ease;
With too much Quickness ever to be taught;
With too much Thinking to have common Thought:
You purchase Pain with all that Joy can give,
And die of nothing but a Rage to live.

96

100

Turn then from Wits; and look on Simo's Mate,

No Afs fo meek, no Afs fo obftinate.

Or her, that owns her Faults, but never mends, Because she's honest, and the best of Friends. Or her, whofe life the Church and Scandal share, For ever in a Paffion, or a Pray'r.

106

Or her, who laughs at Hell, but (like her Grace) Cries," Ah! how charming, if there's no fuch place!" Or who in sweet viciffitude appears

Of Mirth and Opium, Ratafie and Tears,

NOTES.

VER. 107. Or her, who | laughs at Hell, but (like her Grace)-Cries, "Ab! how charming if there's no

such place!"] i. e. Her who affects to laugh out of fafhion, and ftrives to disbelieve out of fear.

The daily Anodyne, and nightly Draught,

115

120

To kill those foes to Fair ones, Time and Thought.
Woman and Fool are two hard things to hit;
For true No-meaning puzzles more than Wit.
But what are these to great Atoffa's mind?
Scarce once herself, by turns all Womankind!
Who, with herself, or others, from her birth
Finds all her life one warfare upon earth:
Shines, in expofing Knaves, and painting Fools,
Yet is, whate'er fhe hates and ridicules.
No Thought advances, but her Eddy Brain
Whisks it about, and down it goes again.
Full fixty years the World has been her Trade,
The wifeft Fool much Time has ever made.
From loveless youth to unrespected age,
No Paffion gratify'd except her Rage.
So much the Fury ftill out-ran the Wit,
The Pleasure mifs'd her, and the Scandal hit.
Who breaks with her, provokes Revenge from Hell,
But he's a bolder man who dares be well.

Her ev'ry turn with Violence purfu'd,

Nor more a ftorm her Hate than Gratitude :

VARIATIONS.

After 122. in the MS.

Opprefs'd with wealth and wit, abundance fad!
One makes her poor, the other makes her mad.

125

130