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SECLUDED from domestic strife,
Such pleasures, unalloy'd with care,
Need we expose to vulgar sight
The honey-moon like lightning flew; The second brought its transports too; A third, a fourth, were not amiss ; The fifth was friendship mix'd with bliss : But when a twelvemonth pass'd away, Jack found his goddess made of clay ; Found half the charms that deck'd her face Arose from powder, shreds, or lace; But still the worst remain'd behind, That very face had robb’d her mind.
Skill'd in no other arts was she But dressing, patching, repartee; And, just as humour rose or fell, By turns a slattern or a belle; 'Tis true she dress'd with modern grace, Half 'naked at a ball or race; But when at home, at board or bed, Five greasy nightcaps wrapt head. Could so much beauty condescend To be a dull domestic friend ? Could any curtain-lectures bring To decency so fine a thing? In short, by night, 'twas fits or fretting ; By day, 'twas gadding or coquetting. Fond to be seen, she kept a bevy Of powder'd coxcombs at her levee : The 'squire and captain took their stations, And twenty other near relations. Jack suck'd his pipe, and often broke A sigh in suffocating smoke; While all their hours were past between Insulting repartee or spleen.
Thus as her faults each day were known, He thinks her features coarser grown:
He fancies every tice she shows,
Now, to perplex the ravellid noose,
The glass, grown hateful to her sight, Reflected now a perfect fright: Each former art she vainly tries To bring back lustre to her eyes. In vain she tries her pastes and creams To smooth her skin, or hide its seams; Her country beaux and city cousins, Lovers no more, flew off by dozens : The 'squire himself was seen to yield, And e'en the captain quit the field. Poor madam, now condemn'd to hack The rest of life with anxious Jack, Perceiving others fairly flown, Attempted pleasing him alone. Jack soon was dazzled to behold Her present face surpass the old;
With modesty ber cheeks are dy'd,
person ever neatly clean:
THE LOGICIANS REFUTED.
IN IMITATION OF DEAN SWIFT.
LOGICIANS have but ill defin'd,
Bring action for assault and battery, Or friend beguile with lies and Aattery? O’er plains they ramble unconfin’d, No politics disturb their mind; They eat their meals, and take their sport, Nor know who's in or out at court; They never to the levee go, To treat as dearest friend a foe; They never importune his grace, Nor ever cringe to men in place ; Nor undertake a dirty job, Nor draw the quill to write for Bob ;* Fraught with invective they ne'er go To folks at Paternoster-row: No jugglers, fiddlers, dancing-masters, No pickpockets, or poetasters, Are known to honest quadrupedes ; No single brute his fellow leads; Brutes never meet in bloody fray, Nor cut each other's throats for pay. Of beasts, it is confess’d, the ape Comes nearest us in human shape. Like man, he imitates each fashion, And malice is his ruling passion: But both in malice and grimaces, A courtier any ape surpasses. Behold him, humbly cringing, wait Upon the minister of state: View him soon after to inferiors Aping the conduct of superiors: He promises with equal air, And to perform takes equal care. He in his turn finds imitators; At court, the porters, lackeys, waiters,
* Sir Robert Walpole.