He dies, fad outcast of each church and state, Yet, in this fearch, the wifeft may mistake, In this the Luft, in that the Avarice 205 210 Were means, not ends; Ambition was the vice. 215 In vain th' obferver eyes the builder's toil, In this one paffion man can strength enjoy, Old Politicians chew on wisdom past, In the former Editions, ver, 208. Nature well known no Miracles remain. 220 225 VER. 213. A noble Dame a whore;] The fifter of Cato, and mother of Brutus. As weak, as earneft; and as gravely out, Has made the father of a nameless race, 230 Shov'd from the wall perhaps, or rudely press'd 235 A falmon's belly, Helluo, was thy fate; The doctor call'd, declares all help too late: "Mercy! cries Helluo, mercy on my foul! "Is there no hope?-Alas!-then bring the jowl. The frugal Crone, whom praying Priests attend, Still strives to fave the hallow'd taper's end, Collects her breath, as ebbing life retires, For one puff more, and in that Puff expires. 240 245 "Odious! in woollen! 'twould a Saint provoke, (Were the laft words that poor Narciffa spoke) VER. 231. Lanesb'row] An ancient Nobleman, who continued this practice long after his legs were difabled by the gout. Upon the death of Prince George of Denmark, he demanded a!ı andience of the Queen, to advise her to preferve her health and difpel her grief by Dancing. VER. 242. The frugal Crone,] A fact told him of a Lady at Paris. VER. 247. The laff words that poor Narcissi spoke] This ftory as well as the others, is founded on fact, though the author did not mention the names. ticular to a very celebrated Actress, thought of being buried in woollen, with her dying breath. Several attribute this in parwho, in deteftation of the gave thefe her last orders "No, let a charming Chintz, and Bruffels lace "Wrap my cold limbs, and shade my lifeless face: "One would not, fure, be frightful when one's dead--"And-- Betty-give this Cheek a little Red." 251 The Courtier smooth, who forty years had fhin'd An humble fervant to all human kind, Juft brought out this, when scarce his tougue could ftir, "If where I'm going-I could ferve you, Sir?" 255 "I give and I devife (old Euclio faid, And figh'd) "my lands and tenements to Ned." 264 "Oh, fave my Country, Heav'n!" fhall be your laft. [88] MORAL ESSAYS. EPISTLE II. то A LAD Y. Of the Characters of Women. TOTHING so true as what you once let fall, NOTHIN "Moft Women have no Characters at all." Matter too soft a lasting mark to bear, And beft distinguish'd by black, brown, or fair. How many Pictures of one Nymph we view, If Folly grow romantic, I must paint it. 5 10 15 |