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Such this day's doctrine-in another fit
75 She fins with Poets thro' pure Love of Wit. What has not fir'd her bosom or her brain? Cæfar and Tall-boy, Charles and Charlema’ne. As Helluo, late Dictator of the Feast, The Nose of Hautgout, and the Tip of Taste, 80 Critick'd your wine, and analyz'd your meat, Yet on plain Pudding deign’d at-home to eat; So Philomedé, lect'ring all mankind On the soft Paffion, and the Taste refin'd, Th’Address, the Delicacy-stoops at once, 85 And makes her hearty meal upon a Dunce.
Flávia's a Wit, has too much sense to pray ; To toast our wants and wishes, is her way; Nor asks of God, but of her Stars, to give The mighty blessing," while we live, to live." 90
Ver: 77. What has not fir'd, &c.] in the MS.
In whose mad brain the mixt ideas roll
Ver. 87. VI. Contrarie. God, but of her Stars, ties in the Witty and Re- Death, that Opiate of the fin'd. P.
foul !] See Note on v go. VER. 89. Nor asks of l of Ep. to Lord Cobham,
Then all for Death, that Opiate of the soul !
106 Or her, who laughs at Hell, but (like her Grace) Cries,“ Ah! how charming, if there's no such place !" Or who in sweet viciffitude appears Of Mirth and Opium, Ratafie and Tears,
VER. 107. Or her, who such place!”]i. e. Her who laughs at Hell, but (like affects to laugh out of faher Grace) - Cries, “ Ah! sion, and strives to disbehow charming if there's no lieve out of fear.
The daily Anodyne, and nightly Draught,
But what are these to great Atofla's mind? I15
I 20 No Thought advances, but her Eddy Brain Whisks it about, and down it goes again. Full fixty years the World has been her Trade, The wisest Fool much Tinie has ever made. From loveless youth to unrespected age, 125 No Paffion gratify'd except her Rage. So much the Fury still out-ran the Wit, The Pleasure miss'd her, and the Scandal hit. Who breaks with her, provokes Revenge from Hell, But he's a bolder man who dares be well.
130 Her ev'ry turn with Violence pursu'd, Nor more a storm her Hate than Gratitude :
Oppress’d with wealth and wit, abundance fad !
To that each Passion turns, or soon or late ;
This Death decides, nor lets the blessing fall
Pictures like these, dear Madam, to design, Asks no firm hand, and no unerring line ; Some wand'ring touches, some reflected light, Some flying stroke alone can hit 'em right: For how should equal Colours do the knack? 155 Chameleons who can paint in white and black ?
" Yet Cloe sure was form’d without a spot”Nature in her then err'd not, but forgot. " With ev'ry pleasing, ev'ry prudent part,
Say, what can Cloe want?”-She wants a Heart. She speaks, behaves, and acts just as she ought; 161 But never, never, reach'd one gen'rous Thought. Virtue she finds too painful an endeavour, Content to dwell in Decencies for ever.
fophy, which he never loses to secure it from being ridifight of, and which teaches, culous, if the end of that that Providence is incessant- government be not pursued, ly turning the evils arising which is the free exercise of from the follies and vices of the social appetites after the men to general good. selfish ones have been sub
" Yet Cloe dued ; for that if, tho' reafure, &c.] The purpose of son govern, the heart be the poet in this Character is never consulted, we interest important: It is to shew ourselves as little in the forthat the politic or prudent tune of such a Character, as in government of the passions any of the foregoing, which is not enough to make a passions or caprice drive up Character amiable, nor even and down at random.