Imatges de pÓgina
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So, Things which must not be expreít,
When plumpt into the reeking Chest,
Send up an excremental Smell,
To taint the Parts from whence they fell :
The Petticoats and Gown perfume,
And waft a Stink round ev'ry Room.

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Thus, finishing his grand Survey,
The Swain disgusted slunk away:
Repeating in his am’rous Fits,
Oh! Calia, Calia, Cælia, .

Bur Vengeance, Goddess, never sleeping,
Soon punish'd Strephon for his peeping.
His foul Imagination links
Each Dame he fees with all her Stinks ;
And, if unsavoury Odours fly,
Conceives a Lady ftanding by.
All Women his Description fits,
And both Ideas jump like Wits,
By vicious Fancy coupled fast,
And still appearing in Contrast.

I pity wretched Strephon, blind
To all the Charms of Woman-kind.
Should I the Queen of Love refuse,
Because she rofe from stinking Ooze?'
To him that looks behind the Scene,
Statira’s but some pocky Quean.

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When Cælia all her Glory shows, If Strephon would but stop his Nose,

Who

Who now so impiously blafphemes
Her Ointments, Daubs, and Paints, and Creams;
Her Walhes, Slops, and ev'ry Clout,
With which he makes so foul a Rout;
He soon would learn to think like me,
And bless his ravishid Eyes to see,
Such Order from Confusion sprung,
Such gaudy Tulips rais'd from Dung.

The Power of TIME.

Written in the Year 1730.

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F neither Brass, nor Marble, can withstand

The mortal Force of Time's destructive Hand : If Mountains sink to Vales, if Cities die, And less’ning Rivers mourn their Fountains dry : When my old Caffock, said a Welch Divine, Is out at Elbows ; why should I repine ?

*SCARRON hath a large Poem on the fame Subject.

DEATH

DEATH and DAPHNE.

To an agreeable young Lady, but extremely lean.

Written in the Year 1730.

D Ꭰ

EATH went upon a solemn Day,

At Pluto's Hall, his Court to pay :
The Phantom, having humbly kist
His griesly Monarch's footy Fift.
Presented him the Weekly Bills
Of Doctors, Fevers, Plagues, and Pills.
Pluto observing, since the Peace,
The Burial Article decrease ;
And, vext to see Affairs miscarry,
Declar'd in Council, Death must marry:
Vow'd, he no longer could support
Old Batchelors about his Court:
The Int'rest of his Realm had need
That Death should get a num'rous Breed ;
Young Deathlings, who, by Practice made
Proficients in their Father's Trade,
With Colonies might stock around
His large Dominions under Ground.

A Consult of Coquets below Was call'd, to rig him out a Beau:

From

From her own Head, Megæra takes
A Perriwig of twisted Snakes ;
Which in the nicest Fashion curld,
Like * Toupets of this upper

World ;
With Flour of Sulphur powder'd well,
(That graceful on his Shoulders fell)
An Adder of the fable Kind,
In Line direct, hung down behind,
The Owl, the Raven, and the Bat,
Club'd for a Feather to his Hat;
His Coat, an Us’rer's Velvet Pall,
Bequeath'd to Pluto, Corps and all,
But, loth his Person to expose
Bare, like a Carcase pick'd by Crows,
A Lawyer o'er his Hands and Face,
Stuck artfully a Parchment Case,
No new-flux'd Rake shew'd fairer Skin;
Nor Phyllis after lying in.
With Snuff was fill'd his Ebon-Box,
Of Shin-Bones rotted by the Pox,
Nine Spirits of blafpheming Fops,
With Aconite anoint his Chops:
And give him Words of dreadful Sounds,
G-d his Blood, and Bland W-ds.

Thus, furnish'd out, he sent his Train,
To take a House in Warwick-Lane:
The Faculty, his humble Friends,
A complimental Message sends :

Their

*ThePerriwigs with long black Tails, now in Fashion are so called.

Their President in scarlet Gown,
Harangu'd and welcom'd him to Town.

But, Death had Bus'ness to dispatch :
His Mind was running on his Match.
And, hearing much of Daphne's Fame,
His Majesty of Terrors came,
Fine as a Col’nel of the Guards,
To visit where she fat at Cards :
She, as he came into the Room,
Thought him Adonis in his Bloom.
And, now her Heart with Pleasure jumps,
She scarce remembers what is Trumps.
For, such a Shape of Skin and Bone
Was never seen, except her own:
Charm'd with his Eyes, and Chin, and Snout,
Her Pocket-Glass drew Nily out;
And, grew enamour'd with her Phiz,
As just the Counter-Part of his.
She darted many a private Glance,
And freely made the first Advance :
Was of her Beauty grown so vain,
She doubted not to win the Swain.
Nothing she thought could sooner gain him,
Than with her Wit to entertain him,
She ask'd about her Friends below;
This meagre Fop, that batter'd Beau :
Whether fome late departed Toasts

the Ghosts?
If Chloe were a Sharper still,
As great as ever, at Quadrille?

(The

Had got

Gallants among

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