Rather forgive what my first transport said :

May all the blood, which fhall by woman's fcorn be shed,

Lie upon you and on your childrens' head!

For you (ah! did I think I e'er fhould live to fee
The fatal time when that could be !)

Have ev'n increas'd their pride and cruelty.
Woman feems now above all vanity grown,
Still boasting of her great unknown
Platonic champions, gain'd without one female wile,
Or the vaft charges of a smile;

Which 'tis a fhame to fee how much of late
You've taught the covetous wretches to o'er-rate,
And which they 've now the confciences to weigh
In the fame balance with our tears,

And with fuch fcanty wages pay

The bondage and the flavery of years.

Let the vain fex dream on; the empire comes from us, And, had they common generofity,

They would not use us thus.

Well-though you 've rais'd her to this high degree, Curselves are rais'd as well as fhe;

And, fpite of all that they or you can do,

"Tis pride and happinefs enough to me
Still to be of the fame exalted sex with you.

XI.

Alas, how fleeting and how vain,

Is ev'n the nobler man, our learning and our wit!
I figh whene'er I think of it:

As at the clofing of an unhappy scene

Of

Of fome great king and conqueror's death,
When the fad melancholy Muse

Stays but to catch his utmost breath.

I grieve, this nobler work moft happily begun,
So quickly and fo wonderfully carry'd on,
May fall at last to intereft, folly, and abuse.
There is a noon-tide in our lives,

Which ftill the fooner it arrives,
Although we boaft our winter-fun looks bright,
And foolishly are glad to fee it at its height,
Yet fo much fooner comes the long and gloomy night.
No conqueft ever yet begun,

And by one mighty hero carried to its height,
E'er flourish'd under a fucceffor or a fon;

It loft fome mighty pieces through all hands it past,
And vanish'd to an empty title in the last.
For, when the animating mind is fled
(Which nature never can retain,

Nor e'er call back again),

The body, though gigantic, lies all cold and dead.

XII.

And thus undoubtedly 'twill fare,
With what unhappy men shall dare
To be fucceffors to thefe great unknown,
On Learning's high-eftablish'd throne.
Cenfure, and Pedantry, and Pride,
Numberless nations, ftretching far and wide,

Shall (I foresee it) foon with Gothic fwarms come forth
From Ignorance's univerfal North,

And with blind rage break all this peaceful government: Yet fhall these traces of your wit remain,

Like a juft map, to tell the vaft extent

Of conqueft in your short and happy reign;
And to all future mankind fhew

How ftrange a paradox is true,

That men who liv'd and dy'd without a name Are the chief heroes in the facred lift of Fame.

Written in a Lady's Ivory Table-book, 1699.

PERUSE my leaves through every part,

And think thou feeft my owner's heart,

Scrawl'd o'er with trifles thus, and quite
As hard, as fenfelefs, and as light;
Expos'd to every coxcomb's eyes,
But hid with caution from the wife.
Here you may read, "Dear charming faint!”
Beneath, "A new receipt for paint:"
Here, in beau-fpelling, "Tru tel deth ;"
There, in her own, "For an el breth :"
Here, 66
Lovely nymph, pronounce my doom!”
There, "A fafe way to use perfume :"
Here, a page fill'd with billets-doux :
On t'other fide, "Laid out for fhoes"-
◄ Madam, I die without your grace”—
"Item, for half a yard of lace.”
Who that had wit would place it here,
For every peeping fop to jeer?

In power of fpittle and a clout,
Whene'er he please, to blot it out;
And then, to heighten the difgrace,
Clap his own nonfenfe in the place.
Whoe'er expects to hold his part
In fuch a book, and fuch a heart,
If he be wealthy, and a fool,
Is in all points the fittest tool;
Of whom it may be justly faid,
He's a gold pencil tipp'd with lead.

MRS. HARRIS'S PETITION.

1699.

To their Excellencies the Lords Juftices of Ireland*, the humble petition of Frances Harris,

Who must starve, and die a maid, if it miscarries;

Humbly fheweth,

That I went to warm myfelf in lady Betty's † chamber, because I was cold;

And I had in a purfe feven pounds, four fhillings, and fix pence, befides farthings, in money and gold: So, because I had been buying things for my Lady last night,

I was refolved to tell my money, to fee if it was right.

* The earls of Berkeley and of Galway.
Lady Betty Berkeley, afterward Germaine.

C 3

Now,

Now, you must know, because my trunk has a very

bad lock,

Therefore all the money I have, which, God knows, is a very small flock,

I keep in my pocket, ty'd about my middle, next to my fmock.

So when I went to put up my purse, as God would have it, my fmock was unript,

And, inftead of putting it into my pocket, down it flipt; Then the bell rung, and I went down to put my Lady to bed;

And, God knows, I thought my money was as fafe as my maidenhead.

So, when I came up again, I found my pocket feel very

light:

But when I fearch'd, and mifs'd my purfe, Lord! I thought I fhould have funk outright.

Lord! Madam, fays Mary, how d'ye do? Indeed, fays I, never worse :

But pray, Mary, can you tell what I have done with my purfe?

Lord help me! faid Mary, I never ftirr'd out of this place:

Nay, faid I, I had it in Lady Betty's chamber, that's a plain cafe.

So Mary got me to bed, and cover'd me up warm: However, fhe stole away my garters, that I might do myself no harm.

So I tumbled and tofs'd all night, as you may very well think,

But hardly ever fet my eyes together, or flept a wink.