'Methinks we're in the like condition, As at the Treaty of Partition :

That stroke, for all King William's care,
Begat another tedious war.

Mathew, who knew the whole intrigue,
Ne'er much approv'd that mystic league:
In the vile Utrecht Treaty, too,
Poor man! he found enough to do.
Sometimes to me he did apply,
But downright Dunstable was I,
And told him where they were mistaken,
And counsell'd him to save his bacon:
But (pass his politics and prose)

I never herded with his foes;
Nay, in his verses, as a friend,

I still found something to commend:
Sir, I excus'd his Nut-brown Maid,
Whate'er severer critics said;
Too far, I own, the girl was tried;
The women all were on my side.
For Alma I return'd him thanks;
I lik'd her, with her little pranks :
Indeed poor Solomon, in rhyme,
Was much too grave to be sublime.'
Pindar and Damon scorn transition,
So on he ran a new division;

Till out of breath he turn'd to spit;
(Chance often helps us more than wit;)
T' other that lucky moment took,
Just nick'd the time, broke in, and spoke :
'Of all the gifts the gods afford,
(If we may take old Tully's word,)
The greatest is a friend; whose love
Knows how to praise, and when reprove:

From such a treasure never part,
But hang the jewel on your heart:
And pray, sir, (it delights me) tell,
You know this author mighty well-
'Know him! d'ye question it? Odds fish!
Sir, does a beggar know his dish?
I lov'd him, as I told you, I
Advis'd him'-Here a stander-by
Twitch'd Damon gently by the cloke,
And thus, unwilling, silence broke:
'Damon, 'tis time we should retire,
The man you talk with, is Matt Prior.'

Patron through life, and from thy birth my friend, Dorset! to thee this Fable let me send;

With Damon's lightness weigh thy solid worth;
The foil is known to set the diamond forth:
Let the feign'd Tale this real moral give,
How many Damons, how few Dorsets, live.

R 2

P. PURGANTI AND HIS WIFE.

AN HONEST BUT A SIMPLE PAIR.

Est enim quiddam, idque intelligitur in omni virtute, quod deceat: quod cogitatione magis a virtute potest quam re separari. Cic. de Off. lib. 1.

BEYOND the fix'd and settled rules
Of vice and virtue in the schools,
Beyond the letter of the law,

Which keeps our men and maids in awe,
The better sort should set before them

A grace, a manner, a decorum;
Something that gives their acts a light,
Makes them not only just but bright,
And sets them in that open fame
Which witty Malice cannot blame.

For 'tis in life as 'tis in painting,

Much may be right, yet much be wanting;
From lines drawn true our eye may trace,
A foot, a knee, a hand, a face;

May justly own the picture wrought
Exact to rule, exempt from fault;
Yet if the colouring be not there,
The Titian stroke, the Guido air,
To nicest judgment show the piece,
At best 'twill only not displease;
It would not gain on Jersey's eye;
Bradford would frown, and set it by.

Thus in the picture of our mind
The action may be well design'd,
Guided by law, and bound by duty,
Yet want this je ne sçai quoi of beauty:
And though its error may be such

As Knags and Burgess* cannot hit;
It yet may feel the nicer touch

Of Wycherly's or Congreve's wit.
'What is this talk?' replies a friend,
'And where will this dry moral end?
The truth of what you here lay down
By some example should be shown.'-
"With all my heart-for once; read on.'
An honest, but a simple pair,
(And twenty other I forbear)
May serve to make this thesis clear.
A doctor of great skill and fame,
Paulo Purganti was his name,
Had a good, comely, virtuous wife,
No woman led a better life;

She to intrigues was ev'n hard-hearted;
She chuckled when a bawd was carted;
And thought the nation ne'er would thrive,
Till all the whores were burnt alive.

On married men that dar'd be bad,

She thought no mercy should be had;
They should be hang'd, or starv'd, or flay'd,
Or serv'd like Romish priests in Swede.-
In short, all lewdness she defied;

And stiff was her parochial pride.
Yet in an honest way the dame
Was a great lover of that same;

* Knags was lecturer of St. Giles in the Fields; Burgess was a dissenter.

And could from Scripture take her cue,
That husbands should give wives their due.
Her prudence did so justly steer
Between the gay and the severe,
That if in some regards she chose
To curb poor Paulo in too close,
In others she relax'd again,
And govern'd with a looser rein.
Thus, though she strictly did confine
The Doctor from excess of wine,
With oysters, eggs, and vermicelli,
She let him almost burst his belly:
Thus drying coffee was denied,
But chocolate that loss supplied;
And for tobacco (who could bear it?)
Filthy concomitant of claret,
(Blest revolution!) one might see
Eringo roots and Bohea tea.

She often set the Doctor's band,

And strok'd his beard, and squeez'd his hand;
Kindly complain'd, that afternoon

He went to pore on books too soon;
She held it wholesomer, by much,
To rest a little, on the couch.-
About his waist in bed a-nights
She clung so close-for fear of sprites.
The Doctor understood the call,

But had not always wherewithal.

The lion's skin, too short, you know, (As Plutarch's morals finely show)

Was lengthen'd by the fox's tail,
And art supplies where strength may fail.
Unwilling, then, in arms to meet
The enemy he could not beat;