But I, who am not over-nice,
And always love to be concise,
Shall let the courteous reader guess
The squire's accoutrements and dress.
Suppose we then the gentle youth
Laid at her feet, all love, all truth;
Haranguing it in verse and prose,

A mount her forehead white with snows,
Her checks the lily and the rose;
Her ivory teeth, her coral lips,
Her well-turn'd ears, whose ruby tips
Afford a thousand compliments,

Which he, fond youth, profusely vents:
The pretty dimple in her chin,
The den of Love, who lurks within.
But, oh! the lustre of her eyes,
Nor stars, nor Moon, nor Sun suffice,
He vows, protests, raves, sinks, and dies.
Much of her breasts he spoke, and hair,
In terms most elegant and rare;
Call'd her the goddess he ador'd,
And in heroic fustian soar'd.
For, though the youth could well explain
His mind in a more humble strain;
Yet Ovid and the wits agree,
That a true lover's speech should be
In rapture and in simile.
Imagine now, all points put right,
The fiddles and the wedding-night;
Each noisy steeple rock'd with glee,
And every bard sung merrily:
Gay pleasure wanton'd unconfin'd,
The men all drunk, the women kiud :
Clod-Hall did ne'er so fine appear,
Floating in posset and strong beer.

Come, Muse, thou slattern house-wife, tell, Where's our friend John! I hope he 's well ; Well! Ay, as any man can be,

"Lard, sir," quoth Sue, how brisk, how gay, How spruce our master look'd to-day! I'm sure no king was e'er so fine, No sun more gloriously can shine."

"Alas, my dear, all is not gold That glisters, as I've read of eld, And all the wise and learned say, The best is not without allay."

"Nay sure

"Well, master John, nam if you can A more accomplish'd gentleman. Beside (else may I never thrive) The best good-natur'd squire alive." (John shrugg'd, and shook his head.) You by your looking so demure Have learnt some sec. et fault; if so, Tell me, good John, way pr`ythee do. Tell me, I say, I long to know. Safe as thy gold in thy strong box, This breast the dark deposit locks, These lips no secrets shall reveal." "Well let me first afhx my seal :" Then kiss'd the soft obliging fir.

"Bat hold-now I must hear you swear, By all your virgin charms below, No mortal e'er this tale shall know." She swore, then thus the conning kuave, With most polific and grave,

Proceeds: Why-faith and troth, dear Sue,
This jewel has a flaw, 'tis true;

My master 's generous, and all that,
Not faulty but unfortunate."

"Why will you keep one in suspence?
Why teaze one thus ?"-" Have patience.
The youth has failings, there 's no doubt,
And who, my Suky, is without?

But should you tell-nay that I dread”—
"By Heaven, and by my maidenhead-
Now speak, speak quick."-" He who denies
Those pouting lips, those roguish eyes,
Must sure be more than man-then know,
My dearest, since you'll have it so;
My master Wild not only talks
Much in his sleep, but also walks;
Walks many a winter night alone,
This way and that, up stairs and down:
Now, if disturb'd, if by surprise

He 's rous'd, and slumbers quit his eyes;
Lord, how I tremble! how I dread
To speak it! Thrice beneath the bed,
Alas! to save my life I fied:

And twice behind the door I crept,
And once out of the window leapt,
No ranging bedlam just got loose
Is half so mad; about the house
Frantic he runs; each eye-ball glares,
He raves, he foams, he wildly stares;
The family before him flies,
Whoe'er is overtaken dies.
Opiates, and breathing of a vein,
Scarce settle his distemper'd brain,
And bring him to himself again.
But, if not cross'd, if let alone
To take his frolic, and be gone ;
Soon he returns from whence he came,
No lamb more innocent and tame."

Thus having gain'd her point, to bed
In haste the flickering gipsy fled;
The pungent secret in her breast

Gave such sharp pangs, she could not rest:
Pim'd, charg'd, and cock'd, her next desire
Was to present, and to give fire.
Sleepless the tortur'd Susan lay,
Tossing and tumbling every way,
Impatient for the dawn of days
So labours in the sacred shade,
Fall of the god, the Delphic maid:
So wind, in hypocondries pent,
Struggles and heaves to find a vent;
In labyrinths intricate it roars,
Now downward sinks, then upward soars;
Th' uneasy patient groans in vam,
No cordials can relieve his pain;
Till at the postern gate, enlarg'd,
The bursting thunder is discharg`d.
At last the happy hour was come,
When call'd into her lady's room ;
Scarce three pins stuck into her gown,
But ont it bolts, and all is known.
Nor idle long the secret lies,
From mouth to mouth improv'd it flies,
And grows amain in strength and size :
For Fame, at first of pigmy birth,
Walks cautionsly on mother Earth;
But soon (as anelent bards have said)
'n clouds the glapt Lides her head.
To courul may the gossips went,
Madui hers. W was president;

Th' affair is bandied pro and con,

Much breath is spent, few con quests won.
At length dame Hobb, to end the strife,
And madam Blouse the parson's wife,
In this with one consent agree,
That, since th' effect was Innacy

If wak'd, it were by much the best,
Not to disturb him in the least:
Ev'n let him ramble if he please;
Troth, 'tis a comical disease;
The worst is to himself: when cold
And shivering he returns, then fold
The vagrant in your arms: he 'll rest
With pleasure on your glowing breast.
Madam approv'd of this advice,
Issued her orders in a trice;
"That none henceforth presume to stir,
Or thwart th' unhappy wanderer.”

John, when his master's knock he heard,
S on in the dressing-room appear'd,
Archly he look'd, and slily leer'd.
"What game?" says Wild. "Oh! never more,
Pheasants and partridge in great store;
I wish your ammunition last !
And then reveal'd how all had past.
Next thought it proper to explain
His plot, and how he laid his train :
"The coast is clear, sir, go in peace,
No dragon guards the golden fleece."

Here, Muse, let sable Night a Ivance,
Describe her state with elegance;
Around her dark pavilion spread

The clouds; with poppies crown her head;
Note well her owls, and bats obscene;
Call her an Ethiopian queen;
Or, if you think 'twill mend my tale,
Call her a widow with a veil ;
Of spectres and hobgoblins tell,
Or say 'twas midnight, 'tis as well

Well then-'twas midnight, as was said,
When Wild starts upright in his bed,
Leaps out, and, without more ado,
Takes in his room a turn or two;
Opening the door, soon out he stalks,
And to the next apartment walks ;
Where on her back there lay poor Sue,
Alas! friend John, she dreamt of you.
Wak'd wtih the noise, her master known,
By moon-light and his brocade gown,
Frighted she dares not scream, in bed
She sinks, and down she pops her head;
The curtains gently drawn, he springs
Between the shots, then closely clings.
Now, Muse, relate what there he did;
Hold, Impudence !-it must be hid!-
He did-as any man would do
In such a case-Did he not, Sue?
Then up into the garret flies.
Where Joan, and Dol, and Betty lies;
A leash of lasses all together,
And in the dog-days-in hot weather;
Why, faith, 'twas hard-he did his best,
And left to Providence the rest.
Content the passive creatures lie,
For who in duty could deny?
Was non-resistance ever thought
By modern casuists a fault?

Were not her orders strict and plain?
All struggling dangerous and vain?

Well, down our younker trips again;
Much wishing, as he reel'd along,
For some rich cordial warm and strong.
In bed he quickly tumbled then,
Nor wak'd next morn till after ton.
Thus night by night he led his life,
Blessing all females but his wife;
Much work upon his hands there lay,
More bills were drawn than he could pay;
No lawyer drudg'd so hard as he,
In Easter Term, or Hillary;
But lawyers labour for their fee.:
Here no self-interest or gain,
The pleasure balances the pain.
So the great sultan walks among
His troop of lasses fair and young:
So the town-bull in Opentide,
His lowing lovers by his side,
Revels at large in nature's right,
Curb'd by no law, but appetite:

Frisking his tail, he roves at pleasure,
And knows no stint, and keeps no measure.

But now the ninth revolving Moon

(Alas! it came an age too soon;
Curse on each hasty fleeting night')
Some odd discoveries brought to light.
Strange tympanies the women seize,
An epidemical disease;

Madam herself with these might pass
For a clean-shap'd and taper lass.
'Twas vain to hide th' apparent load,
For hoops were not then à-la-mode;
Sue, being question'd, and hard press'd,
Blubbe ring the naked truth confess'd:

Were not your orders most severe,
That none should stop his night-career?
And who durst wake him? Troth, not I;

I was not then prepar'd to die."

66

WeH Sue, said she," thou shalt have grace,

But then this night I take thy place,

Thou mine, my night-cloaths on thy head,
Soon shall he leave thee safe in bed:

Lie still, and stir not on thy life,
But do the penance of a wife;
Much pleasure hast thou had; at last
"Tis proper for thy sins to fast."

This point agreed, to bed she went,
And Sue crept in, but ill-content;
soon as th' accustom'd hour was come,
The younker sally'd from his room,
To Sue's apartment whipt away,
And like a lion seiz'd his prey;
She clasp'd him in her longing arms,
Sharp-set, she feasted on his charins.
He did whate'er he could; but more
Was yet to do, encore, encore !
Fain would he now elope, she claspt
Him still, no burr e'er stuck so fast.
At length the morn with envious light
Discover'd all: in what sad plight
Poor man, he lay! abash'd, for shame
He could not speak, not ev'n one lame
Excuse was left. She, with a grace
That gave new beauties to her face,
And with a kind obliging air,
(Always successful in the fair)

Thus soon reli v'd him from despair.

Ah! generous youth, pardon a fault,

No foolish jealousy has taught;

'Tis your own crime, open as day,
To your conviction paves the way.
Oh! might this stratagem regain
Your love let me not plead in vain;
Something to gratitude is due,
Have I not given all to you?"

Tom star'd, look'd pale, then in great haste
Slipp'd on his gown; yet thus at last
Spoke faintly, as amaz'd he stood,
"I will, my dear, be very good."

THE

HAPPY DISAPPOINTMENT:

A TALE.

In days of yore, when belles and beaux
Left masquerades and puppet-shows,
Deserted ombre and basset,

At Jonathan's to squeeze and sweat;
When sprightly rakes forsook champaign,
The play-house, and the merry main,
Good mother Wyburn and the stews,
To smoke with brokers, stink with Jews:
In fine, when all the world run mad
(A story not less true than sad);
Ned Smart, a virtuous youth, well known
To all this chaste and sober town,
Got every penny he could rally,
To try his fortune in Change-Alley:
In haste to loll in coach and six,

Bought bulls and bears, play'd twenty tricks,
Amongst his brother lunatics.
Transported at his first success,
A thousand whims his fancy bless,
With scenes of future happiness.
How frail are all our joys below!

Mere dazzling meteors, flash and show!
Oh, Fortune false deceitful whore!
Caught in thy trap with thousands more,
He found his rhino sunk and
gone,
Himself a bankrupt, and undone.
Ned could not well digest this change.
Fore'd in the world at large to range;
With Babel's monarch turn'd to grass,
Would it not break an heart of brass?
"Tis vain to sob and hang the lip;
One penny left, he buys a slip,
At once his life and cares to lose,
Under his ear he fits the noose.
An hook in an old wall he spies,
To that the fatal rope he ties:
Like Curtius now, at one bold leap,
He plung'd into the gaping deep;
Nor did he doubt in Hell to find,
Dealings more just, and friends more kind.
As he began to twist and sprawl,

The loosen'd stones break from the wall;
Down drops the rake upon the spot,
And after him an earthen pot:
Reeling he rose, and gaz'd around,
And saw the crock lie on the ground;
Surpriz'd, amaz'd, at this odd sight,
Trembling, he broke it in a fright:
When, I at once came pouring forth
Ingots, and pearls, and gems of worth.

O'erjoy'd with Fortune's kind bequest,
He took the birds, but left the nest;
And then, to spy what might ensue,
Into a neighbouring wood withdrew;
Nor waited long. For soon he sees

A tall black man skulk through the trees;
He knew him by his shuilling pace,
His thread-bare coat and hatchet face:
And who the devil should it be,

But sanctify'd sir Timothy!

His uncle by his mother's side,

His guardian, and his faithful guide.

This driveling knight, with pockets full,

And proud as any great Mogul,
For his wise conduct had been made
Director of the jobbing trade:
And had most piously drawn in
Poor Ned and all his nearest kin.
The greedy fools laid out their gold,
And bought the very stock he sold ;
Thus the kind knave convey'd their pelf,
By

cus pocus, to himself;
And, to secure the spoils he got,
Form'd this contrivance of the pot.
Here every night, and every morn,
Devout as any monk new shorn,
The prostrate hypocrite implores
Just Heaven to bless his hidden stores;
Bu, when he saw dear mammon flown,
The plunder'd hive, the honey gone,
No jiited bully, no bilk'd hack,

No thief when beadles flay his back,
No losing rook, no carted whore,
No sailor when the billows roar,
With such a grace e'er curs'd and swore.
Then, as he por'd upon the ground,
Ard turn'd his haggard eyes around,
The halter at his feet he spy'd,

Aul is this all that 's left ?" he cry'd:

Am I thus paid for all my cares,

My lectures, repetitions, prayers?
'Tis well-there's something sav'd at least,
Welcome, thou faithful, friendly guest;
If I must hang, now all is lost,
'Tis cheaper at another's cost ;
To do it at my own expense,
Would be downright extravagance."
Thus comforted, without a tear,
He fix'a the noose beneath his ear,
To the next bough the rope he ty'd,
And most heroically dy`d.
Ned, who behind a spreading tree,
Beheld this tragi-comedy,
With hearty cures rung his knell,
And bid him thus his last farewell.
"Was it not, uncle, very kind,
In me, to leave the rope behind?
A legney so well bestow'd,
For all the gratitude I ow'd.
Adion, sir Tim; by Heaven's decree,
Soon may thy brethren follow thee,
In the same glorious manner swing,
Without one friend to cut the string;
That bence rapacious knaves may know,
Justice is always sure, though slow."

A PADLOCK FOR THE MOUTH:

A TALE.

JACK DIMPLE was a merry blade,
Young, amorous, witty, and well-made;
"Discreet?"-Hold, sir-nay, as I live
My friend, you 're too inquisitive:
Discretion, all men must agree,
Is a most shining quality,

Which like leaf-gold makes a great show,
And thinly spread sets-off a beau.
But, sir, to put you out of pain,
Our younker had not half a grain,
A leaky blab, rash, faithless, yain.
The victories his eyes had won,

As soon as e'er obtain'd, were known:
For trophies rear'd, the deed proclaim,
Spoils hung on high expose the dame,
And love is sacrific'd to fame.
Such insolence the sex alarms,
The female world is up in arms;
Th' outrageous Bacchanals combine,
And brandish'd tongues in concert join.
Unhappy youth! where wilt thou go
T' escape so terrible a foe?
Seek shelter on the Libyan shore,
Where tigers and where lions roar?
Sleep on the borders of the Nile,
And trust the wily crocodile?
'Tis vain to shun a woman's hate,
Heavy the blow, and sure as fate.
Phyllis appear'd among the crow'd,
But not so talkative and loud,
With silence and with care supprest
The glowing vengeance in her breast,
Resoly'd, by stratagem and art,
To make the saucy villain smart.
The cunning baggage had prepar'd
Pomatum, of the finest lard,

With strong astringents mix'd the mess,
Alom, and vitriol, 2. S.

Arsenic, and bole. But I want time
To turn all Quincy into rhyme,
Twould make my diction too sublime.
Her grandame this receipt had taught,
Which Bendo from Grand Cairo brought,
An able styptic (as 'tis said)

To soder a crack'd maidenhead.
This ointment being duly made,
The jilt upon her toilet laid:

The sauntering cully soon appears,
As usual, vows, protests, and swears;
Careless an opera tune he hums,

Plunders her patch-box, breaks her combs.
As up and down the monkey play'd,

His hand upon the box he laid,

The fatal box. Pleas'd with her wiles,
The treacherous Pandora smiles.

"What's this?" cries Jack. That box!" said she: "Pomatum; what else should it be?"

But here 'tis fit my reader knows

'Twas March, when blustering Boreas blows,
Stern enemy to belles and beaux.

His lips were sore; rough, pointed, torn,
The coral bristled like a thorn.
Pleas'd with a cure so à-propos,
Nor jealous of so fair a foe,

The healing ointment thick he spread,
And every gaping cranny fed.
His chops begin to glow and shoot
He strove to speak, but, oh! was mute,
Mute as a fish, all he could strain,
Were some horse gutturals forc'd with pain.
He stamps, he raves, he sobs, he sighs,
The tears ran trickling from his eyes;
He thought but could not speak a curse,
His lips were drawn into a purse.
Madam no longer could contain,
Triumphant joy bursts out amain;

She laughs, she screams, the house is rais'd,
Through all the street th' affair is blaz'd:
In shoals now all the neighbours come,
Laugh out, and press into the room.
Sir Harry Taudry and his bride,
Miss Tulip deck'd in all her pride;
Wise Madam Froth, and widow Babble,
Coquettes and prudes, a mighty rabble.
So great a concourse ne'er was known
At Smithfield, when a monster 's shown;
When bears dance jiggs with comely mien,
When witty Punch adorns the scene,
Or frolic Pug plays Harlequin.

In vain he strives to hide his head,
In vain he creeps behind the bed,
Ferreted thence, expos'd to view,
The crowd their clamorous shouts renew!
A thousand taunts, a thousand jeers,
Stark dumb, the passive creature hears.
No perjur'd villain nail'd on high,
And pelted in the pillory,

His face besinear'd, his eyes, his chops,
With rotten eggs and turnip-tops,
Was e'er so maul'd. Phyllis, at last,
To pay him for offences past,
With sneering malice in her face,

Thus spoke, and gave the coup de grace :
"Lard! how demure, and how precise
He looks! silence becomes the wise.
Vile tongue! its master to betray,
But now the prisoner must obey,

I've lock'd the door, and keep the key.
Learn hence, what angry woman can,
When wrong'd by that false traitor man;
Who boasts our favours, soon or late,
The treacherous blab shall feel our hate."

THE

WISE BUILDER:

A TALE.

WISE. Socrates had built a farm,
Little, convenient, snug, and warm,
Secur'd from rain and wind:

A gallant whisper'd in his car,
"Shall the great Socrates live here,
To this mean cell confin'd?"
"The furniture's my chiefest care,"
Reply'd the sage; "here's room to spare,
Sweet sir, for I and you;
When this with faithful friends is fill'd,
An ampler palace I shall build;

"Till then, this cot must do.'

THE TRUE USE

OF THE LOOKING-GLASS.

A TALE.

TOM CAREFUL had a son and heir,
Exact his shape, genteel his air,
Adonis was not half so fair.

But then, alas! his daughter Jane
Was but so-so, a little plain.
In mam's apartment, as one day
The little romp and hoyden play,
Their faces in the glass they view'd,
Which then upon her toilet stood;
Where, as Narcissus vain, the boy
Beheld each rising charm with joy;
With partial eyes survey'd himself,
But for his sister, poor brown elf,
On her the self-enamour'd chit
Was very lavish of his wit.

She bore, alas! whate'er she could,

But 'twas too much for flesh and blood;
What female ever had the grace
To pardon scandal on her face?
Disconsolate away she flies,
And at her daddy's feet she lies;
Sighs, sobs, and groans, calls to her aid,
And tears, that readily obey'd;
Then aggravates the vile offence,
Exerting all her eloquence:

The cause th' indulgent father heard,
And culprit summon'd soon appear'd;
Some tokens of remorse be show'd,
And promis'd largely to be good.
As both the tender father press'd
With equal ardour to his breast,

And smiling kiss'd, "Let there be peace,"
Said he; "let broils and discord cease:
"Each day, my children, thus employ
The faithful mirror; you, my boy,
Remember that no vice disgrace

The gift of Heaven, that beauteous face;
And you, my girl, take special care
Your want of beauty to repair
By virtue, which alone is fair."

MAHOMET ALI BEG:

OR, THE FAITHFUL MINISTER OF STATE.

A LONG descent, and noble blood,
Is but a vain fantastic good,
Unless with inbred virtues join'd,
An honest, brave, and generous mind.
All that our ancestors have done,
Nations reliev'd, and battles won;
The trophies of each bloody field,
Can only then true honour yield,
When, like Argyll, we scorn to owe,
And pay that lustre they bestow;
But, if, a mean degenerate race,
Slothful we faint, and slack our pace,
Lag in the glorious course of fame,
Their great achievements we disclain.
Some bold plebeian soon shall rise,
Stretch to the goal, and win the prize.
For, since the forming hand of old,
Cast all mankind in the same mold;

Since no distinguish'd clan is blest
With finer porcelain than the rest;
And since in all the ruling mind
Is of the same celestial kind;
'Tis education shows the way
Each latent beauty to display;
Each happy genius brings to light,
Conceal'd before in shades of night:
So diamonds from the gloomy mine,
Taught by the workman's hand to shine,
On Cloe's ivory bosom blaze,

Or grace the crown with brilliant rays.
Merit obscure shall raise its head,
Though dark obstructing clouds o'erspread;
Heroes, as yet unsung, shall fight
For slaves oppress'd, and injur'd right;
And able statesmen prop the throne,
To Battle-Abbey-Roll unknown.

Sha Abbas, with supreme command,
In Persia reign'd, and bless'd the land;
A mighty prince, valiant, and wise,
Expert, with sharp discerning eyes,
To find true virtue in disguise.
Hunting (it seems) was his delight,
His joy by day, his dream by night:
The sport of all the brave and bold,
From Nimrod, who, in days of old,
Made men as well as beasts his prey,
To mightier George, whose milder sway
Glad happy crowds with pride obey,
In quest of his ficree savage foes,
Before the Sun the monarch rose,
The grizly hon to engage,

By baying dogs provok'd to rage;
In the close thicket to explore,

And push from thence the bristled boar:

Or to pursue the flying deer,

Winle deep-mouth'd hounds the vallies cheer; And Echo from repeating hills

His heart with joy redoubled fills.

Under a rock's projecting shade,
A shepherd boy his seat had made,
Happy as Croesus on his throne,
The riches of the world his own.
Content on mortals here below,
Is all that Heaven can bestow.
His crook and serip were by him laid,
Upon his oaten pipe he play'd;
I's flocks securely couch'd around,
And seem'd to listen to the sound.
Returning fron the chase one day,
The king by chance had lost his way:
Nor guards, nor nobles, now attend;
But one young lord, his boson friend.
Now tir'd with labour, spent with heat,
They sought this pleasant cool retreat;
The boy leap'd active from his seat,
And, with a kind obliging grace,
Offer'd the king unknown his place.
The Persian monarch, who so late,
Lord of the world, rul'd all in state;
On cloth of gold and tissue trod,
Whole nations trembling at his nod;
With diamonds and with rubies crown'd,
And girt with fawning slaves around;

A record which contained the names of the chief imen that came over with the Conqueror.