Which like leaf-gold makes a great fhow,
And thinly spread fets-off a beau.
But, fir, to put you out of pain,
Our younker had not half a grain,
A leaky blab, rash, faithlefs, vain.
The victories his eyes had won,
As foon as e'er obtain'd, were known;
For trophies rear'd, the deed proclaim,
Spoils hung on high expofe the dame,
And love is facrific'd to fame.
Such infolence the fex 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 fo terrible a foe?

Seek shelter on the Libyan shore,
Where tigers and where lions roar?
Sleep on the borders of the Nile,
And truft the wily crocodile ?e
'Tis vain to fhun a woman's hate,
Heavy the blow, and fure as fate.
Phyllis appear'd among the crowd,
But not fo talkative and loud,
With filence and with care fuppreft
The glowing vengeance in her breast,
Refolv'd, by ftratagem and art,
To make the faucy villain smart.

}

The

The cunning baggage had prepar'd
Pomatum, of the finest lard,

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

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

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

The fauntering cully foon appears,
As ufual, vows, protefts, and swears;
Careless an opera tune he hums,

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

As

His hand upon the box he laid,

The fatal box. Pleas'd with her wiles,

The treacherous Pandora fmiles.

"What's this?" cries Jack. "That box!" faid fhe:

"Pomatum; what else fhould it be?"

But here 'tis fit my reader knows

'Twas March, when blustering Boreas blows,

Stern enemy to belles and beaux.

His lips were fore; rough, pointed, torn,
The coral bristled like a thorn.
Pleas'd with a cure fo à-propos,

Nor jealous of fo fair a foe,

Bb 2

}

The

The healing ointment thick he spread,

And every gaping cranny fed.

His chops begin to glow and shoot,
He ftrove to fpeak, but, oh! was mute,
Mute as a fish, all he could ftrain,

Were fome horse gutturals forc'd with pain.
He stamps, he raves, he sobs, he fighs,
The tears ran trickling from his eyes;
He thought but could not speak a curse,
His lips were drawn into a purfe.
Madam no longer could contain,
Triumphant joy bursts out amain;

She laughs, the fcreams, the house is rais'd,
Through all the ftreet th' affair is blaz'd:
In fhoals now all the neighbours come,
Laugh out, and prefs into the room.
Sir Harry Taudry and his bride,
Mifs Tulip deck'd in all her pride;
Wife Madam Froth, and widow Babble,
Coquettes and prudes, a mighty rabble.
So great a concourfe ne'er was known
At Smithfield, when a monfter 's fhown;
When bears dance jiggs with comely mien,
When witty Punch adorns the scene,
Or frolick 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 fhouts renew:

A thousand taunts, a thoufand jeers,
Stark dumb, the paffive creature hears.
No perjur'd villain nail'd on high,
And pelted in the pillory,

His face befmear'd, his eyes, his chops,
With rotten eggs and turnip-tops,
Was e'er fo maul'd. Phyllis, at last,
Το pay him for offences past,
With fneering malice in her face
Thus fpoke, and gave the coup de grace:
"Lard! how demure, and how precise
"He looks! filence becomes the wife.
"Vile tongue! its mafter 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 boafts our favours, foon or late,
"The treacherous blab fhall feel our hate."

THE

WISE

BUILDER:

A T A L

E.

W1

ISE Socrates had built a farm,

Little, convenient, fnug, and warm,
Secur'd from rain and wind:

A gallant whifper'd in his ear,

"Shall the great Socrates live here,

"To this mean cell confin'd?"

“The furniture 's my chiefest care,”

Reply'd the fage; "here 's room to spare,
"Sweet fir, for I and you;

"When this with faithful friends is fill'd,
"An ampler palace I fhall build;
"Till then, this cot muft do."

The true Ufe of the LOOKING-GLASS:

TOM

A T A L E.

OM CAREFUL had a fon and heir,
Exact his fhape, genteel his air,

Adonis was not half fo fair.

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

She bore, alas! whate'er fhe could,

But 'twas too much for flesh and blood;
What female ever had the grace

To pardon fcandal on her face?

}