While wits and templars ev'ry fentence raise, And wonder with a foolish face of praise-What pity, heav'n! if fuch a man there be, Who would not weep, if Addison were he! * MACE R. WHEN fimple Macer, now of high renown, First fought a poet's fortune in the town; 'Twas all th' ambition his great foul could feel, And gave Towear red ftockings, and to dine with Steel. Some ends of verse his betters might afford, the harmless fellow a good word. Set up with thefe, he ventur'd on the town, And in a borrow'd play out-did poor Crown. There he ftopt short, nor fince has writ a tittle, But has the wit to make the most of little; Like ftunted hide-bound trees, that just have got Sufficient fap at once to bear and rot. * Now he begs verse, and what he gets commends, Not of the wits his foes, but fools his friends. *He requested by publick advertisements the aid of the ingenious to make up a mifcellany in 1713. So So fome coarse country wench almost de cay'd, Trudges to town, and firft turns chambermaid: Aukward, and fupple each devoir to pay, And strangely lik'd for her fimplicity : own ; But juft endur'd the winter fhe began, And in four months a batter'd harridan. Now nothing's left, but wither'd pale and fhrunk To bawd for others, and go fhares with punk, * SYLVIA, A FRAGMENT. SYLVIA my heart in wondrous wife alarm'd, Aw'd without fenfe, and without beauty charm'd : But fome odd graces and fine flights fhe had, Was juft not ugly, and was juft not mad: Her tongue ftill run on credit from her eyes, More pert than witty, more a wit than wife: tyrs, Now drinking citron with his Grace and Chartres. Men, fome to bus'nefs, fome to pleasure take; But ev'ry woman's in her foul a rake. Frail, fev'rifh fex! their fit now chills, now burns: Atheism and fuperftition rule by turns; And the mere heathen in her carnal part Is ftill a fad good chriftian at her heart. * ARTE HOUGH Artemifia talks, by fits, TH Of councils, clafficks, fathers, wits; Haughty and huge as High-Dutch bride ; On her large fquab you find her spread; That lies and ftinks in ftate. She wears no colours (fign of grace) And mafculine her ftride. So have I feen, in black and white, A ftately, worthless animal, That plies the tongue, and wags the tail, All flutter, pride, and talk. * PHRYNE. PHRYNE ha HRYNE had talents for mankind; Her learning and good breeding fuch, Obfcure by birth, renown'd by crimes, In di'monds, pearls, and rich brocades, So have I known those infects fair, Still gain new titles with new forms; ON |