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ME, *Phœbus in a Midnight † Dream
Accofting; faid, I Go shake your Cream.
Be humbly minded; know your Poft;
Sweeten your Tea, and watch your Toast.
Thee, beft befits a lowly Style:

Teach Dennis how to ftir the Guile:
With Peggy Dixon thoughtful fit,
Contriving for the Pot and Spit,
Take down thy proudly fwelling Sails,
And rub thy Teeth, and pare thy Nails.
At nicely carving fhow thy Wit:
But ne'er presume to eat a Bit:
Turn ev'ry Way thy watchful Eye;
And ev'ry Guest be fure to ply;
Let never at your Board be known
An empty Plate except your own.
**Be these thy Arts; nor higher aim
Than what befits a rural Dame.

BUT, Cloacina, Goddess bright,

Sleek

claims her as his Right:

And ++ Smedley, Flow'r of all Divines,
Shall fing the D―n in Smedley's Lines.

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Mrs. DIXON the House-keeper.

** Hæ tibi erunt artes.

VIRG.

tt A very ftupid, infolent, factious, deformed, conceited Parfon ; a vile Pretender to Poetry, preferred by the D. of GRAFTON for his Wit.

The LADY's Dreffing-Room.

FI

Written in the Year 1730.

IVE Hours, (and who can do it lefs in?)
By haughty Calia spent in Dreffing;
The Goddess from her Chamber iffues,
Array'd in Lace, Brocade and Tiffues :
Strephon, who found the Room was void,
And Betty otherwise employ'd,
Stole in, and took a strict Survey
Of all the Litter, as it lay:

Whereof to make the Matter clear,
An Inventory follows here.

AND first, a dirty Smock appear❜d, Beneath the Arm-pits well befmear'd; Strephon, the Rogue, difplay'd it wide, And turn'd it round on ev'ry Side:

In fuch a Cafe, few Words are best,

And Strephon bids us guess the reft;

But fwears how damnably the Men lye,
In calling Calia fweet and cleanly.

Now liften, while he next produces
The various Combs for various Ufes;
Fill'd up with Dirt fo closely fixt,
No Brush cou'd force a Way betwixt ;

A Pafte

A Pafte of Compofition rare,

Sweat, Dandriff, Powder, Lead and Hair.
A Forehead-Cloth with Oil upon't,

To smooth the Wrinkles on her Front:
Here, Alum Flour to stop the Steams,
Exhal'd from four unfav'ry Streams;
There, Night-Gloves made of Tripley's Hide,
Bequeath'd by Tripley when the dy'd;
With Puppy-Water, Beauty's Help,
Diftill'd from Tripfey's darling Whelp,
Here Gally-pots and Vials plac'd,

Some fill'd with Washes, fome with Paste ;
Some with Pomatums, Paints, and Slops,
And Oigments good for fcabby Chops,
Hard by, a filthy Bafon ftands,

Foul'd with the fcow'ring of her Hands;
The Bafon takes whatever comes,
The Scrapings from her Teeth and Gums,
A nafty Compound of all Hues,
For here fhe fpits, and here fhe fpues.

BUT O! it turn'd poor Strephon's Bowels,
When he beheld and fmelt the Towels:
Begumm'd, bematter'd, and beflim'd;
With Dirt, and Sweat, and Ear-wax grim'd.
No Object Strephon's Eye efcapes;
Here, Petticoats in frowzy Heaps.
Nor, be the Handkerchiefs forgot,
All varnish'd o'er with Snuff and Snot.
The Stockings, why fhould I expose,
Stain'd with the Moisture of her Toes;

Or,

Or, greafy Coifs, and Pinners reeking,
Which Calia flept at least a Week in.
A Pair of Tweezers next he found,
To pluck her Brows in Arches round,
Or, Hairs that fink the Forehead low,
Or, on her Chin like Briftles grow.

THE Virtues we must not let pafs
Of Calia's magnifying Glafs :
When frighted Strephon caft his Eye on't,
It fhew'd the Vifage of a Giant:
A Glass that can to Sight difclofe
The smallest Worm in Calia's Nofe,
And faithfully direct her Nail,

To fqueeze it out from Head to Tail;
For, catch it nicely by the Head,
It must come out, alive or dead.

WHY, Strephon, will you tell the rest ?
And muft you needs describe the Cheft?
That careless Wench! No Creature warn her,
To move it out from yonder Corner,
But leave it standing full in Sight,
For you to exercise your Spight!
In vain the Workman fhew'd his Wit,
With Rings and Hinges counterfeit,
To make it seem in this Difguife,
A Cabinet to vulgar Eyes;
Which Strephon ventur'd to look in,
Refolv'd to go thro' thick and thin,
He lifts the Lid: There need no more,
He finelt it all the Time before.

As

As, from within Pandora's Box,
When Epimetheus op'd the Locks,
A fudden univerfal Crew
Of human Evils upward flew ;
He still was comforted to find,
That Hope at laft remain'd behind.

So, Strephon, lifting up the Lid,
To view what in the Cheft was hid,
The Vapours flew from out the Vent ;
But, Strephon, cautious, never meant
The Bottom of the Pan to grope,
And foul his Hands in fearch of Hope.

O! ne'er may fuch a vile Machine
Be once in Calia's Chamber feen!
O! may she better learn to keep
Thofe Secrets of the boary Deep!*

As Mutton-Cutlets, † Prime of Meat,
Which, tho' with Art you falt and beat,
As Laws of Cookery require,

And roaft them at the clearest Fire;
If from Sadown the hopeful Chops,
The Fat upon a Cinder drops,

To ftinking Smoak it turns the Flame,
Pois'ning the Flesh from whence it came,
And up exhales a greazy Stench,

For which you curfe the careless Wench:
VOL. II.

MILTON.

Y

+ Prima Virorum.

S

$ Vide D-n D-s Works, and N. P- Y's.

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