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Shov'd from the wall perhaps, or rudely press’d By his own fon, that passes by unbless’d:

235 Still to his wench he crawls on knocking knees, And envies ev'ry sparrow that he sees.

A falmon's belly, Helluo, was thy fate ; The doctor call’d, declares all help too late :

Mercy! cries Helluo, mercy on my soul! 240 “ Is there no hope? --Alas!-then bring thejowl.”

The frugal Crone, whom praying priests attend, Still tries to fave the hallow'd taper's end, Collects her breath, as ebbing life retires, For one puff more, and in that puff expires. 245

« Odious! in woollen ! 'twould a Saint provoke, (Were the last words that poor Narciffa fpoke)

No, let a charming Chintz, and Brussels lace “ Wrap my cold limbs, and hade my lifeless face :

COMMENTARY. Courtier, the Mifer, and the Patriot; which last instance the. poet has had the art, under the appearance of Satire, to turn into the noblest Compliment on the person to whom the Epistle is addressed.

NOTES VER. 247. the last words that poor Narcissa spoke] This story, as well as the others, is founded on fact, tho the author had the goodness not to mention the names. Several attribute this in particular to a very celebrated Actress, who, in deteftation of the thought of being buried in woollen, gave these her last orders with her dying breath. P.

Ver. 242. The frugal Crone,] A fact told him, of a Lady at Paris. VOL. III,



One would not sure, be frightful when one's dead--
And-Betty-give this Cheek a little Red.”

The Courtier smooth, who forty years had shin'd
An humble servant to all human kind,
Just brought out this, when scarce his tongue could

“If-where I'm going I could serve you,

Sir?” “ I give and I devise (old Euclio said, 256 And sigh'd) “ my lands and tenements to Ned. Your money, Sir? -"My money, Sir, what all ?

Why,---if I must--- (then wept) I give it Paul.
“ The Manor,Sir ? ---"The Manor ! hold, he cry'd,
“ Not that --- I cannot part with that”---and dy'd.

And you! brave COBHAM, to the latest breath
Shall feel your ruling passion strong in death:
Such in those moments as in all the past,
“Oh, save my Country, Heav'n!” shall be your last.

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N.Blakey inv. & delo

G. Jootin fculp:

Ini Men, we various ruling Passions find, In Women, two almost divide the Kind The love of Pleasure, and the Love of Sway. Those only firid, they first or last obey

char: of Wonlen.




Of the Characters of Women.


othing so true as what you once let fall,

« Most Women have no Characters at all."; Matter too soft a lasting mark to bear, And best distinguish'd by black, brown, or fair,

NOTES. Of the Characters of Women.] There is nothing in Mr. Pope's works more highly finished than this Epistle : Yet its success was in no proportion to the pains he took in composing it. Something he chanced to drop in a short Advertisement prefixed to it, on its first publication, may perhaps account for the small attention given to it. He said, that no one character in it was drawn from the life. The Public believed him on his word, and expressed little curiosity about a Satire in which there was nothing personal.

VER. 1. Nothing so true &c.] The reader perhaps may be

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