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But who the Bowl, or rattling Dice compares
To Basset's heav'nly Joys, and pleasing Cares?

Soft SIMPLICETTA doats upon a Beau;
PRUDINA likes a Man, and laughs at Show.
Their several graces in my SHARPER meet;
Strong as the Footman, as the Master sweet.

Cease your contention, which has been too long;
I grow impatient, and the T'ea's too strong.
Attend, and yield to what I now decide ;
The Equipage shall grace SMILINDA's Side :
The Snuff-box to CARDELIA I decree,
Now leave complaining, and begin your Tea.


Verbatim from BOIL E AU,

Un Jour dit un Auteur, etc. Once (says an Author, where I need not say)

Two Trav'llers found an Oyster in their way; Both fierce, both hungry; the dispute grew strong, While Scale in hand Dame Justice past along. Before her each with clamour pleads the Laws, Explain'd the matter, and would win the cause. Dame Justice weighing long the doubtful Right, Takes, opens, swallows it, before their fight. The cause of strife remov’d so rarely well, There take (says Justice) take ye each a Shell. We thrive at Westminster on Fools like you : 'Twas a fat Oyster--Live in peace-Adieu.

ANSWER to the following Question of

Mrs. Howe.


'Tis a Beldam, Seen with Wit and Beauty seldom.. 'Tis a fear that starts at shadows. 'Tis (no, 'tis’nt) like Miss Meadows. 'Tis a Virgin hard of Feature, Old, and void of all good-nature; Lean and fretful ; would seem wise ; Yet plays the fool before she dies. 'Tis an ugly envious Shrew,' That rails at dear Lepell and You.

Occafioned by fome Verses of his Grace the


MUSE, 'tis enough: at length thy labour ends,

And thou shalt live, for Buckingham commends.. Let Crowds of Critics now my verse assail, a Let Dennis write, and nameless numbers rail : This more than pays whole years of thankless pain, Time, health, and fortune are not loft in vain, Sheffield approves, confenting Phæbus bends, And I and Malice from this hour are friends.

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By Mr. POPE, . To a Play for Mr. Dennis's Benefit, in 1733, when he was old, blind, and in great Distress, a little before his Death.'

AS when that Hero, who in each Campaign,

Had brav'd the Goth, and many a Vandal slain, Lay Fortune-ftruck, a spectacle of Woe! Wept by each Friend, forgiv'n by ev'ry Foe: Was there a gen'rous, a reflecting mind, But pitied BELISARIUs old and blind? Was there a Chief but melted at the Sight? A common Soldier, but who clubb'd his Mite ? Such, such emotions should in Britons rife, When press’d by want and weakness Dennis lies; 10 Dennis, who long had warr'd with modern Huns, Their Quibbles routed, and defy'd their Pans;

Ver. 6. But pitied Belisarius, etc.] Nothing could be more happily imagined than this allusion, or finelier conducted. And the continued pleasantry so delicately touched, that it took nothing from the self-fatisfaction the Critic, who heard it, had in his Merit, or the Audience in their charity. With so masterly a hand has the Poet profecuted, in this benevolent irony, that end, which he supposed Dennis himself, had he the, wit to see, would have the ingenuity to approve.

This dreaded Sat'rift, Dennis will confess,

Foe to bis Pride, but Friend to bis Difress. VER. 7. Was there a Chief, etc.] The fine figure of the Com. mander in that capital Picture of Belisarius at Chiswick, supplied the Poet with this beautiful idea.

A desp'rate Bulwark, sturdy, firm, and fierce
Against the Gothic Sons of frozen verse :
How chang'd from him who made the boxes groan, 15
And shook the stage with thunders all his own!
Stood up to daih each vain PRETENDER's hope,
Maul the French Tyrant, or pull down the Pope!
If there's a Briton then, true bred and born,
Who holds Dragoons and wooden shoes in scorn; 20
If there's a Critic of distinguish'd rage ;
If there's a Senior, who contemns this age ;
Let him to-night his just assistance lend,
And be the Critic's, Briton's, Old Man's Friend.

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When simple Macer, now of high renown,

First fought a Poet's Fortune in the Town,
'Twas all th' Ambition his high soul could feel,
To wear red stockings, and to dine with Steel.
Some Ends of verfe his Betters might afford;
And gave the harmless fellow a good word. :
Set up with these, he ventur'd on the Town,
And with a borrow'd Play out-did poor Crown.
There he stopp'd short, nor since has writ a tittle,
But has the Wit to make the moft of little :
Like ftunted hide-bound Trees, that just have got
Sufficient Sap at once to bear and rot.


Now he begs Verse, and what he gets commends,
Not of the Wits his foes, but Fools his friends.

So some coarse Country Wench, almost decay'd, 15
Trudges to Town, and firft turns Chambermaid ; -
Awkward and supple, each devoir to pay ;
She flatters her good Lady twice a day;
Thought wondrous honest, tho' of mean degree,
And strangely lik’d for her Simplicity :
In a tranflated Suit, then tries the Town,
With borrow'd Pins, and Patches not her own :
But just endur'd the Winter she began,
And in four Months a batter'd Harridan,
Now nothing left, but wither’d, pale, and shrunk, 25
To bawd for others, and go share with Punk.


To Mr. JOHN MOORE, AUTHOR of the celebrated WORMPOWDER.


How much, egregious Moore, are we

Deceiv'd by shews and forms!, , Whate'er we think, whate'er we fee;

All Humankind are Worms. Man is a very Worm by birth,

Vile, reptile, weak, and vain ! A while he crawls upon the earth,

Then shrinks to earth again.
That Woman is a Worm, we find

E’er since our Grandame's evil ;
She first convers'd with her own kind,

That ancient Worm, the Devil.

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