But Hunger forces Men to eat,
Though no Temptations in the Meat.
How would the ogling Sparks despise
The darling Damsel of my Eyes;
Shou'd they behold her at a Play,
As she's trick'd up on Holy-day:
When the whole Family combine
For publick Pride to make her shine?
Her Locks, which long before lay matted,
Are on this Day comb'd out and plaited:
A Diamond Bodkin in each Trefs,
The Badges of her Nobleness.
For ev'ry Stone, as well as fhe,
Can boast an ancient Pedigree.

These form'd, the Jewel erft did grace
The Cap of the first Grave o' th' Race,
Peferr'd by Graffin Marian

T'adorn the Handle of her Fan,
And as by old Record appears,
Worn fince in Renigunda's Years,
Now sparkling in the Frokin's Hair,
No Rocket breaking in the Air
Can with her starry Head compare.

Such

Such Roaps of Pearl her Arms incumber,
She scarce can deal the Cards at Ombre.
So many Rings each Finger fright,
They tremble with the mighty weight.
The like in England ne'er was feen,
Since Holben drew Hal and his Queen.
But after these fantastick Flights,
The Luftre's meaner than the Lights.
The Thing that bears this glitt'ring Pomp
Is but a tawdry ill-bred Ramp,
Whose brawny Limbs and martial Face
Proclaim her of the Gothick Race,
More than the mangled Pageantry

Of all the Father's Heraldry.

But there's another fort of Creatures,
Whofe ruddy Look and Grotefque Features

Are fo much out of Nature's way,
You'd think 'em ftamp'd on other Clay;
No lawful Daughters of old Adam.
'Mongst these behold a City Madam,
With Arms in Mittins, Head in Muff,
A dapper Cloak and rev'rend Ruff:
No Farce so pleasant as this Maukin,
And the foft Sound of High-Dutch talking.

Here

Here unattended by the Graces,

The Queen of Love in a fad Cafe is.

Nature, her active Minister,

Neglects Affairs, and will not ftir;

Thinks it not worth the while to please,
But when she does it for her Ease.

Ev'n I, her moft devout Adorer,

With wand'ring Thoughts appear before her.
And when I'm making an Oblation,
Am fain to fpur Imagination

With fome fham London Inclination.
The Bow is bent at German Dame,
The Arrow flies at English Game.
Kindness, that can Indifference warm,
And blow that Calm into a Storm,
Has in the very tenderest Hour
Over my Gentleness a Power.

True to my Country-women's Charms,
When kiss'd and press'd in foreign Arms.

}

A

A

LETTER

From Mr. Dryden to Sir George Etheridge.

T

O You who live in chill Degree,

As Map informs, of Fifty three,
And do not much for Cold attone,
By bringing thither Fifty one;
Methinks all Climes fhou'd be alike,
From Tropick ev'n to Pole Artique;`

Since

you have fuch a Constitution As no where fuffers Diminution. You can be old in grave Debate,

And

young in Love-affairs of State: And both to Wives and Husbands show

The Vigour of a Plenipo.

1

Like mighty Miffioner you come
Ad Partes Infidelium.

A Work of wondrous Merit fure,

So far to go, fo much t'indure:

Q

1

And

And all to Preach to German Dame,
Where found of Cupid never came.
Lefs had you done, had you been fent
As far as Drake or Pinto went,
For Cloves or Nutmegs to the Line a,
Or even for Oranges to China.
That had indeed been Charity;
Where Love-fick Ladies helpless lie,
Chapt, and for want of Liquor dry,
But you have made your Zeal appear
Within the Circle of the Bear.
What Region of the Earth's fo dull,
That is not of your Labours full?
Triptolemus, fo fung the Nine,
Strew'd Plenty from his Cart Divine.
But fpite of all thefe Fable-Makers,
He never fow'd on Almain Acres:
No, that was left by Fate's Decree,

To be perform'd and fung by thee.
Thou break'st thro' Forms with as much eafe
As the French King thro' Articles.
In grand Affairs thy Days are spent,
In waging weighty Complement,
With fuch as Monarchs represent.

They

}