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Such this day's doctrine-in another fit
She fins with Poets thro' pure Love of Wit.
What has not fir'd her bosom or her brain?
Cæfar and Tall-boy, Charles and Charlema'ne.
As Helluo, late Dictator of the Feast,
The Nofe of Hautgout, and the Tip of Tafte, 80
Critick'd your wine, and analyz'd your meat,
Yet on plain Pudding deign'd at-home to eat;
So Philomedé, lect'ring all mankind
On the foft Passion, and the Taste refin'd,
Th'Address, the Delicacy-stoops at once,
And makes her hearty meal upon a Dunce.
Flavia's a Wit, has too much sense to pray;
To toaft our wants and wishes, is her way;
Nor afks of God, but of her Stars, to give
The mighty blessing, " while we live, to live." 90

VARIATIONS.

VER. 77. What has not fir'd, &c.] in the MS.
In whose mad brain the mixt ideas roll

Of Tall-boy's breeches, and of Cæfar's foul.

NOTES.

VER. 87. VI. Contrarie- | God, but of her Stars,

ties in the Witty and Refin'd. P.

85

Death, that Opiate of the foul!] See Note on y 90. of Ep. to Lord Cobham,

VER. 89. Nor asks of

Then all for Death, that Opiate of the foul!
Lucretia's dagger, Rosamonda's bowl.
Say, what can cause such impotence of mind?
A Spark too fickle, or a Spouse too kind.
Wife Wretch! with Pleasures too refin'd to please;

96

100

With too much Spirit to be e'er at ease;
With too much Quickness ever to be taught;
With too much Thinking to have common Thought:
You purchase Pain with all that Joy can give,
And die of nothing but a Rage to live.
Turn then from Wits; and look on Simo's Mate,
No Afs fo meek, no Ass so obstinate.
Or her, that owns her Faults, but never mends,
Because she's honest, and the best of Friends.
Or her, whose life the Church and Scandal share,
For ever in a Passion, or a Pray'r.
Or her, who laughs at Hell, but (like her Grace)
Cries, "Ah! how charming, if there's no such place!"
Or who in sweet viciffitude appears

106

Of Mirth and Opium, Ratafie and Tears, 110

NOTES.

VER. 107. Or her, who laughs at Hell, but (like her Grace)-Cries, "Ah! how charming if there's no

4

such place!"] i. e. Her who affects to laugh out of fashion, and strives to disbelieve out of fear.

:

The daily Anodyne, and nightly Draught,
To kill those foes to Fair ones, Time and Thought.
Woman and Fool are two hard things to hit;
For true No-meaning puzzles more than Wit.
But what are these to great Atoffa's mind? 115
Scarce once herself, by turns all Womankind!
Who, with herself, or others, from her birth
Finds all her life one warfare upon earth :
Shines, in expofing Knaves, and painting Fools,
Yet is, whate'er she hates and ridicules.
No Thought advances, but her Eddy Brain
Whisks it about, and down it goes again.
Full fixty years the World has been her Trade,
The wifeft Fool much Time has ever made.

120

From loveless youth to unrespected age,
No Paffion gratify'd except her Rage.
So much the Fury still out-ran the Wit,
The Pleasure miss'd her, and the Scandal hit.

125

Who breaks with her, provokes Revenge from Hell,

But he's a bolder man who dares be well.

130

Her ev'ry turn with Violence pursu'd,

Nor more a storm her Hate than Gratitude:

VARIATIONS.

After y 122. in the MS.

Oppress'd with wealth and wit, abundance sad!

One makes her poor, the other makes her mad.

To that each Passion turns, or foon or late;
Love, if it makes her yield, must make her hate:

Superiors? death? and Equals? what a curse! 135

But an Inferior not dependant? worfe.

Offend her, and she knows not to forgive;

140

Oblige her, and she'll hate you while you live:
But die, and she'll adore you-Then the Buft
And Temple rife-then fall again to dust.
Last night, her Lord was all that's good and great;
A Knave this morning, and his Will a Cheat.
Strange! by the Means defeated of the Ends,
By Spirit robb'd of Pow'r, by Warmth of Friends,
By Wealth of Follow'rs! without one distress 145
Sick of herself thro' very felfishness !
Atossa, curs'd with ev'ry granted pray'r,

Childless with all her Children, wants an Heir.
To Heirs unknown descends th'ungarded store,
Or wanders, Heav'n-directed, to the Poor.

VARIATIONS.

After y 148. in the MS.

This Death decides, nor lets the blessing fall
On any one she hates, but on them all.
Curs'd chance! this only could afflict her more,
If any part should wander to the poor.

NOTES.

150

VER. 150. Or wanders, luding and referring to the Heav'n-directed, &c.] Al- great principle of his Philo

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Pictures like these, dear Madam, to design, Afks no firm hand, and no unerring line; Some wand'ring touches, some reflected light, Some flying stroke alone can hit 'em right: For how should equal Colours do the knack? 155 Chameleons who can paint in white and black ?

"Yet Cloe sure was form'd without a spot"Nature in her then err'd not, but forgot.

"With ev'ry pleasing, ev'ry prudent part,

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Say, what can Cloe want?"-She wants a Heart. She speaks, behaves, and acts just as she ought; 161 But never, never, reach'd one gen'rous Thought.

Virtue she finds too painful an endeavour,

Content to dwell in Decencies for ever.

NOTES.

sophy, which he never loses | to secure it from being ridifight of, and which teaches, that Providence is incessantly turning the evils arifing from the follies and vices of men to general good.

VER. 157. "Yet Cloe fure, &c.] The purpose of the poet in this Character is important: It is to shew that the politic or prudent government of the paffions is not enough to make a Character amiable, nor even

culous, if the end of that government be not pursued, which is the free exercife of the social appetites after the selfish ones have been fubdued; for that if, tho' reason govern, the heart be never confulted, we interest ourselves as little in the fortune ofsuch a Character, as in any of the foregoing, which passions or caprice drive up and down at random.

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