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Though a printer and dean
Our true Irish hearts from old England to wean;
In England the dead in woollen are clad,
The dean and his printer then let us cry fye on ; To be cloath'd like a carcafe, would make a Teague mad, Since a living dog better is than a dead lion.
Our wives they grow fullen
At wearing of woollen,
And all we poor shop-keepers muft our horns pull in. Then we 'll buy English filks for our wives and our daughters,
In fpite of his deanship and journeyman Waters.
Whoever our trading with England would hinder,
To inflame both the nations do plainly confpire;
Our noble grand jury,
When they faw the dean's book, they were in a great fury: They would buy English filks for their wives and their daughters,
In fpite of his deanfhip and journeyman Waters.
This wicked rogue Waters, who always is finning,
And before corum nobus so oft' has been call'd, Henceforward fhall print neither pamphlets nor linen, And, if fwearing can do't, fhall be fwingingly mawl'd:
And as for the dean,
You know whom I mean,
If the printer will peach him, he 'll scarce come off clean. Then we 'll buy English filks for our wives and our daughters,
In spite of his deanfhip and journeyman Waters.
THE PROGRESS OF BEAUTY.
HEN firft Diana leaves her bed,
Vapours and steams her look difgrace,
A frowzy dirty-colour'd red
Sits on her cloudy wrinkled face :
But by degrees, when mounted high,
Down from her window in the sky,
Her fpots are gone, her vifage clears.
'Twixt earthly females and the moon
To fee her from her pillow rife,
All reeking in a cloudy steam,
Crack'd lips, foul teeth, and gummy eyes,
Three colours, black, and red, and white,
For inftance, when the lily skips
All her complexion fafe and found;
The black, which would not be confin'd,
A more inferior station feeks,
Leaving the fiery red behind,
And mingles in her muddy cheeks.
But Celia can with eafe reduce,
By help of pencil, paint, and brush, Each colour to its place and use,
And teach her cheeks again to blush.
She knows her early felf no more,
As other painters oft' adore
The workmanship of their own hands.
Thus, after four important hours,
Say, which among the heavenly powers
Venus, indulgent to her kind,
Gave women all their hearts could with, When first fhe taught them where to find White-lead and Lufitanian dish.
Love with white-lead cements his wings:
She ventures now to lift the fash;
Delude at once and blefs our fight;
When the materials all are gone; The best mechanic hand muft fail, Where nothing 's left to work upon.
Matter, as wife logicians fay,
Cannot without a form subsist;
And form, fay I as well as they,
And this is fair Diana's cafe;
For all aftrologers maintain,
Each night a bit drops off her face,
While Partridge * wifely fhews the cause
That Cancer with his poisonous claws
Attacks her in the milky way:
Partridge and Gadbury wrote each an ephemeris.
But Gadbury, in art profound,
But, let the cause be what it will,
Yet, as the waftes, fhe grows difcreet,
For fure, if this be Luna's fate,
In vain expects a longer date
To the materials of her face.
When Mercury her treffes mows,
To think of black-lead combs is vain;
No painting can reftore a nofe,
Nor will her teeth return again.
Ye powers, who over love prefide!
Send us new nymphs with each new moon !
A young fhepherd, of whom Diana was feigned to be enamoured.
↑ John Flamsteed, the celebrated aftronomer royal.