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That, Nature gives; and where the lesson taught Is but to please, can Pleasure seem a fault? Experience, this; by Man's oppression curft, They seek the second, not to lose the first.
Men, fome to Bus'nefs, fome to Pleasure take; But ev'ry Woman is at heart a Rake: Men, some to Quiet, Tome to public Strife; But ev'ry Lady would be Queen for Life.
IBID. p. 131.
And yet, believe me, good as well as ill, Woman's at best a contradiction ftill. Heav'n, when it strives to polish all it can Its fast best work, but forms a softer Man; Picks from each sex, to make the Fav’rite blest, Your love of Pleasure, our desire of Reft: Blends, in exception to all gen’ral rules, Your taste of Follies, with our scorn of Fools: Reserve with Frankness, Art with Truth ally’d, Courage with Softness, Modesty with Pride; Fix'd Principles, with Fancy ever new; Shakes all together, and produces-You.
IBID. p. 137
WE AL T H. BLEST paper-credit! last and best supply! That lends Corruption lighter wings to fly! Gold, imp'd by thee, can compass hardest things, Can pocket States, can fetch or carry Kings;
A fingle leaf shall waft an Army o'er,
Oh! that such bulky Bribes as all might see, Still, as of old, incumber'd Villainy! Could France or Rome divert our brave designs, With all their brandies, or with all their wines? What could they more than Knights and 'Squires
confound, Or water all the Quorum ten miles round? A statesman's slumbers how this speech would fpoil ! « Sir, Spain has sent a thousand jars of oil ;
Huge bales of British cloth blockade the door ; “ A hundred oxen at your levee roar.”
Poor Avarice one torment more would find ; Nor could Profusion squander all in kind. Astride his cheese Sir Morgan might we meet ; And Worldly crying coals from street to street, Whom with a wig so wild, and mien so maz'd, Pity mistakes for some
tradesman craz'd. Had Colepepper's whole wealth been hops and hogs, Could he himself have sent it to the dogs ? His Grace will game : to White's a Bull be led, With spurning heels, and with a butting head; To White's be carry'd, as to ancient games, Fair Courfers, Vases, and alluring Dames. N 2
Shall IBID. p. 143.
Shall then Txorio, if the nakes he sweep,
P. What Riches give us, let us then inquire ? Meat, Fire, and Clothes. B. What more? P. Meat,
Clothes, and Fire. Is this too little? Would you more than live? Alas! 'tis more than Turner finds they give. Alas! 'tis more than (all his vifions past) Unhappy Wharton, waking, found at laft! What can they give ? to dying Hopkins, Heirs ; To Chartres, Vigour; Japhet, Nose and Ears Can they, in gems bid pallid Hippia glow, In Fulvia's búckle ease the throbs below; Or heal, old Narfes, thy obscener ail, With all th'embroid'ry plaifter'd at thy tail? They might (were Harpax not too wise to spend) Give Harpax' felf the blessing of a Friend; Or find some Doctor that would save the life Of wretched Shylock, spite of Shylock's Wife: But thousands die, without or this or that, Die, and endow a College, or a Cat. To fome, indeed, Heav'n grants the happier fate, T'enrich a Bastard, or a Son they hate.
A V A
IBID. p. 150.
THE MAN OF ROSS. BUT all our praises why should Lords engross? Rise, honest Muse!' and fing the Man of Ross: Pleas'd Vaga echoes through her winding bounds, And rapid Severn hoarse applause resounds. Who hung with woods yon mountain's sultry brow? From the dry rock who bad the waters flow? N3
Not to the skies in useless columns tost,
B. Thrice happy man! enabled to pursue What all so wish, but want the pow'r to do! Oh fay, what sums that gen'rous hand supply? What mines to swell that boundless charity ?
P. of Debts and Taxes, Wife and Children clear, This man poffefs'd-five hundred pounds a year. Blush, Grandeur, blush! proud Courts, withdraw
your bl. ze!
Ye little Stars ! hide