A 509272
MICHIGAN
KINO
Item Selected
For Retention
By MDP-2008
TY
oll G4U 650 (
Ε
A 509 272
THE
R E MAINS
Mr, Tho. Brown,
Serious and Comical, in PROSE
and VERSE.
OF
3
In One VOLUM F.
Collected from ſcarce
Which makes his
Papers and Origiral Mss.
WORKS
COMPLEAT.
With Mr. Brown's Legacy for the
Ladies, or CHARACTERS
of the WOMEN of the AGE.
To which is prefix'd,
A Key to all his PROPHESIES, DIALOGUES,
SATYRS, FABLES, Poems and LETTERS.
ONDON Printed for SAM, BRISCOE, at the
ell - Souage on Ludzute-Hill, R. Smith, G. Strahens
, E. Symonds,
Osborne, J. Brorberson, it. Bertefoorth, W. Taylor, J. Bastley
Bickerson, C. Rivington, J. Pemberton, D. Brown, W. Meas,
lisy, T. Corbet, T. Jauncy, B. Pickard, 1720.
2
1
ele bogy
ܪ ܬܐܝ
.ܚܝ ܬܐܢ ܕ ܫ ' ܀ ܀
verso
ordusdresi
1
2
še
>
PASAUCO
STOA.93
در است : دار ; ي م .. ().
.O
CONSTEL
supa
3
ni logisco) Precio
TIPO BOX
2990hb 110
Τ Η Ε
REMAINS
OF
Mr. Thomas Brown,
Serious and Comical,
IN
PROSE and VERSE.
In one VOLUME.
Collected from ſcarce PAPERS and
Original M ss. never Printed in his
WORKS.
WITH
Mr. Brown's Legacy for the Ladies;
Or, Characters of the Women of the Age.
To which is prefix’d,
A Key to all his Propheſies, Dialogues,
Satyrs, Fables, and Poems.
LONDON,
Printed for Sam. Briſcoe, at the Bell Savage-
Inn on Ludgate-Hill. 1720,
7
그
​1
Preglish
Pickering
1.8.17
14100
VO
To the Honourable
Mr. L AW, Jun.
,
T
SIR,
He Name and Writings
of Mr. Thomas Brown
? are ſo well known, and
have been ſo kindly receiv'd in the
World, that having already pub-
liſh'd ſeveral of his Works, I was
glad to collect the Remains of ſo
celebrated an Author. As he
made
A 2
Dedication.
1
1
made very nice Obſervations upon
the World, I take the Liberty to
dedicate them to a Gentleman juſt
coming into it; and by addreſſing
my ſelf, in this Manner, to the
Son of Mr. Law, I only mean to
acknowledge the ſignal Obligations
which I receiv'd, many Years ſince,
from his Father.
I have here, Sir, à very fair
Field to expatiate upon the Me-
rits of that Illuſtrious and Great
Man; to ſay how perfectly he un-
derſtands the Commierce of Europe,
out of what Difficulties and Laby.
rinths he has brought the Finan-
ces of France, and upon how for
lid a Foor he has, fecur'd the In-
tereſt of that Nation. But this,
Sir, is properly a Subject for no
bler Pens than mine, and what
you
!
1
1
1
Dedication.
S
T
you hear of where ever you con-
verfe.
* My Affair, at prefent, is, only
to beg you to remind your excel-
tent Father, that I have formerly
had the Honoúr of his Favour and
Protection, and of ſeeing him at
the Place, i which he was then
pleas'd to call my Office, in Covent
Garden : That I have follow'd
him, with my beſt Wiſhes, thro'
all the Steps and Aſcents of his
great Fortune ; and that, whilſt
he is enlarging the Wealth of a
Kingdom, and eſtabliſhing the Li-
berty of its Colonies, the Booka.
feller, whom he once favour'd, is
extreamly reduc'd from the hap-
py Eſtate he then enjoy’d, and
now lies under a perſonal Con-
finement.
A 3
I dare
t
t
1
Dedication.
I dare trouble you no longer,
Sir, than to wiſh that your Stu-
dies may be proſperous, and your
Voyages and Travels delightful :
As you may be Heir to your Fa:
ther's Fortunes, you may like-
wife inherit thoſe great Qualities
which rais'd him to ſo eminent a
Heighth. And this as it is the
moſt fincere, is the higheſt Vow
that I can make for your Felicity:
I am, with the greateſt Reſpect,
Honourable Sir,
Your moſt obedient and
molt humble Servant,
Sam. Briſcoe
THE
А
... Ludicrous Character
OF
Mr. BROWN,
int
al: Written by the Honourable
JOSEPH ADDISON, Efq;.
Mr. BRISCOE,
R. DRAKE'S Character of
D Mr. BROWN, is doubtleſs a
very good One, and writ like
a Friend and Gentleman; and
in truth has done the Memory of that.
2
Ingenious Perſon a grcat deal of Juſtice,
* A 4
nor
11 LwicroUS Character
nor is the merry Character Mr. ADDISON
has given in his TATLER, Nº. 101 to
be rejected. He Speaks with a great
deal of Compaſſion of that Unfortu-
nate Gentleman, and ſeems to lament
that the Narrowneſs of his Circumftan-
ces ſhould ſometimes put him upon
things below his Wit and Genius. The
Words are as follows,
l'ibad Listered Page Tapi bind my
Stock of Learning was worth isol.
per Annum, which would very hand-
ſomely maintain me and
my
little Fa
mily, who are fo happy, or ſo wifes as
to want only Neceſſaries. Before Men
had come up to this bare-faced Impu-
dence, it was an Eſtate to have a Com-
petency of Undețſtanding. 12
An Ingenious Drole, who is fince
dead, and indeed it is well for him
he is ſo, for he muſt have ſtarved had
to give
an Account of his good Husbandry in
the Management of his Learning. He
was a general Dealer, and had his A-
múſements as well comical as ſerious.
01 011011.
The
1
&
، و
of Mr. BROWN.
The merry Rogue ſaid, when he wan-
ted a Dinner, he writ a Paragraph of
Fable-Talk, and his Bookfeller upon
Sight paid the Reckoning. He was a
very good Judge of what would pleaſe
the People, and could aptly hit both
the Genius of his Readers, and the Sea
fon of the Year in his Writings, His
Brain, which was his Eftate, had as re-
gular and different Produce as other
Men's Land. From the Beginning of
November, till the Opening of the Cam-
pagne, he writ Pamphlets and Letters
to Members of Parliament, or, Friends,
in the Country: But ſometimes he
would relieve his ordinary Readers
with a Murder, and lived comfortably
a-Week or Twoupon ſtrange and lamen-
ble Accidents. A little before the Armies
took the Field, his Way was to open
your Attention with a Prodigy; and a
Monſter well writ, was two Guinea's
the loweſt Price. This prepared his
Readers for his Great and Bloody News
from Flanders in June and July. Poor
Tom! He is gone----But I obſerved, he
..
always
A Ludicrous Character, &c.
always looked well after a Battle, and
29
was apparently fatter in a fighting Year.
Had this honeft careleſs Fellow lived
till now, Famine had ſtared him in
the Face, and interrupted his Merri-
ment; as it muſt be a ſolid Affliction
to all thoſe whore Pen is their Portion.
As for my Part, I do not ſpeak wholly.
for my own Sake in this Point;. for
Palmiſtry and Aftrology will bring me
in greater Gains than theſe my Papers;
fo that I am only in the Condition of
a Lawyer, who leaves the Bar for
Chamber-Practice. However, I may
be allowed to ſpeak in the Cauſe of
Learning it felf, and lament, that a
liberal Education is the only one which
a polite Nation makes un profitable.
6.
A Character
THE
CONTENTS
OF THE
REMAINS
OF
Mr. Tho. Brown.
**************
(A
Mr. BROWN's Propheſies.
Prophecy found under the Foundation
of the Chapel of Wallingford-
Houſe, engrav'd on Lead, and diſ-
cover'd on Saturday, the 2d of
June 1684, and sent by Thomas Poney, Eſq
to the Lord-Mayor, who proclaim da Faſt
tbereon,
Page 1
A 4
CO N T E N T S.
3
Propheſy found under the Trees and Bench in
St. James's Park, the 12th of June 1684,
lengrav'd on Copper, and carry'd to my Lord
'Chamberlain by Serjeant Barecroft, p. 2
A Propbely found the 29th of January 1696,
by Some Torkmen digging up the Ruins of the
Privy. Garden, and by them carry'd to the
Uſher of the Black Rod, that was written on
a Scroll of Parchment,
A Propbely found in a Vault in Lambeth
Chapel,
5
Propbefies out of Merlin's Carmen, in Latin
and Engliſh.
66
The Key to all the Propheſies prefix'd to this Vo-
lume.
On a Silver Piſs-pot, occaſion d by a Bill to
compel the bringing in of Plate to be coin'd
1696,
6
Melecinda's Misfortune on the burning of her
Smock,
7
The Claret. Drinker's Song, or the good Fellow's
Deſign,
Advice to Dr. Oates, not to be melancholy, in
1685, when a Priſoner in the King's Bench,
13
To the Memory of his Friend Mr. John Old-
ham,
IS
A Satyr on Marriage,
18
The Oxford Barber's Verſes on the Death of
Queen Mary,
II
21
Upon
CONTENT S.
31
3 L-
33
Upon Love, in Imitation of Mr. Cowley, 23
Julii Mazarini Cardinalis Epitaphium, 25
Epitaphium Domini Doctoris James, 27
Monumentum ſibi fieri vetuit Beatiflimus
Pater Thomas Willis, & Henricus Jones,
&c.
28.
In Diadema Regium a Bloddio Turium
ablatum
29
M. S. Johannes Fell, S. T. P.
Tle Female Caſuiſts, or Dr. Sherlock's Conver.
hon, a Poem written 1690,
The practical - Quaker, or the new Lights,
Poem,
In Epiſcopuin Sariſburienfem,
36
A Deſcription of a Country Life, in a Letter
to Mr. P-
in London,
A bantering. Letter to a Vintrer living near
the Royal Exchange, (under a borrow'd
Name of a Juſtice of Peace's Clerk,) about coke
Baſtard Child.
49
A Letter to a Gentleman of Doctor's Com-
mons,
52
A Letter to a young Lady,
57
Henry Hammondus,
58
An Epitaph on Algernoon Sidney 59
An Epitaph on Queen Mary's Dog, 60
An Epitaph on a Stumbling Horſe, 61
Oraculum,
63
The Epſom Duct,
38
65
À 5
Tbe
CONTENT S.
72
The Cavalcade, and diſbanding the Royal Regie
ment,
68
A Ballad on the Times 1696,
73
Love Letter to Madam Maintenon. Made
Engliſh by Mr. Tho Brown, 75
The Marquis de Chevereuſe's Letter to Madam
Maintenon,
ibid.
The ſame to Madam Maintenon, 77
To my adorable Guillemette,
18
Love Verſes, Spoken to the adorableGuillimette,
To the ſame Lady, deliver'd by a Peaſant, 80
Her Anſwer to the Marquis,
81
The young Fudge's Letter of Excuſe againſt Mar-
riage with Madam Maintenon, 82
The Ver ſes ſent in the ſame Letter,
83
Madam Scarron's Verſes on her Brother's Mar-
riage with Madam Maintenon, 86
The French King s Letter to Mad. Scarron, 87
The Fable of the Wolf and Porcupine againjt a
Standing Army,
90
'An Epitaph on a Taylor's Wife,
91
An Epitaph on burren Peg,
93
A Letter againſt Marriage,
94
The cornuteð Beaux, a Satyr on Marriage, à
Dialogue,
On the firſt Fit of the Gout,
109
A Dialogue between a cuckoldy Courtier and his
Lady,
Pieaſure out of French,
113
A
95
JO2
CON T E N T S.
A Letter from Mr. Brickland, a Taylor in
Oxford, with Mr. Tho. Brown's Anſwer,
115
A Dialogue betwixt Sir Roger L'Eſtrange,
Harry Carr, and a Diffenter; on King
James's Declaration for Liberty of Con-
fcience. Printed at Oxon 1688,
To a Friend in the Country, on the Death of his
Miſtreſs,
140
An Epitaph upon Charming Peg, 141
On the Leatb of the Duke of Glouceſter, 143,
An Epitaph upon Dr. Burnet, late Biſhop of
Saliſbury, by the ſame,
144
118
英法德​※※※※※※※浓浓​浓​※※※※※
The Contents of Mr. Brown's Lega-
су
for the Ladies, or Characters of
the Women of the Age. Firſt
Printed 1704.
HE Character of a manton Woman, 145
T The Character of a modeft Woman, 152
The Clara&ter of a pretended godly Woman, 154
The Character of a religious Woman, 166
The Charakter of a witty Woman,
170
The Character of a prudent Woman, 175
The Chara&er af a good Houſewife, 186
The Character of a gaming Woman, 190
The Chara&ter of a diligent Woman 196
The
CON TENT S.
2
233,
235
238
The Chara&ter of a litigious Woman, 200
Female Vanity expos’d by Mr. Brown, 208
The Epilogue written by Mr. Brown, and ſpoke
by Jo. Haines, in the Habit of a Hor fe Offio.
cer mounted on an Afs,
The Ladies Lamentation for the Death of Mr.
Mountford the Player,
On the Death of the Duke of Glouceſter, or a
Satyr on Dr. Ratcliffe,
On the Duke of Marlborough's Vi&tory, 239
Upon the Paper Projet for raiſing Money, 240
The bappieſt Day of Marriage,
ibid.
A Latin Epigram,
ibid.
The fame Epigram in Engliſh by Mr. Brown,
265
Epigram to his drinking Miſtreſs, ibid.
On the Earl of Torrington,
262
The Poet's Will,
266
The Fable of the Lion and the Beaſts, 268
An Elegy 67 Mr. Millington the famous Au-
&tioneer,
270
A Match for the Devil, in Imitation of Rabelais,
An Eſay upon Women,
280
The Charms of the Bottle, a Friend to Love, 289
Mr. Prance's Hymn to the Pillory,
The Chara&ter of a Puritan,
295
England's Triumphs for Vi&tory, 299
The Characters of ſeveral Ladies that want Huf-
bands,
304
273.
294
CO N T E N T S
317
A Criticiſm on the Stage,
An Eſay upon Comedy,
317
upon Italian Comedy,
upon Engliſh Comedy,
An Anacreontic, on a Lap-Dog, 333
A Letter from an old fornicating Vintner be:
bind the Royal Exchange, to bis Wine-
Mercbant in the Country, &c.
334
Mr. Brown's Farewel to Old England, 339
322
328
.
A
living.
A Key to Mr. Tho. Brown's Propheſies.
Rophery I. found under the Chapel of Wal:
lingford Houfe, on Saturday 2d of Jane 1694
P Tewkesburg Muffard, p. 1. l. 1.
Refers to the Lord C-, a Peer that was
very biting and ſharp, where he bore 2
ny Refentment-againſta Man.
Land without Magpie or Toad, p. 1. 1. 2.
Alludes to Ireland, in which are no ſuch Creatures
Sauce of the Veal, p. 1. 1. 3.
Hints on the late King William, in his Title of
Prince of Orange.
Fogning three to one Lion, p. 1. l. 3.
The Belgick Lion rampant,the Armsof Holland, joyn'd
to the three Lions couchant, in the Arms of England.
Pad-Nag of Arion, p.1.14
Arion was a famous Muſician, who having a great
deal of Money about him on Shipboard, for which the
Mariners being about to cut his Throat, he defir'd to
play one Tune on his Harp firſt; which he no ſooner
touch'd, but ſeveral Dolphins (who naturally love Mu-
fick) coming round the ship, he jumpt on the Back of
one of 'em, who ſtraightway carry'd him ſafe to Shore,
Lillies, p. 2.
Are the Arms of France.
Cherry, p. 2. 1. 2.
A Nick-Name given to A-R
Breft, p. 2. 1. 4.
A ſtrong Sea-port Town in France, on which General
Talmarſs making a Deſcent in 1693, there loft his
Life, with a great many Men beſides,
1. 1.
Proph.
A Key to the Prophefies.
Proph. II. Found under the Trees and Bench in St.
James's Park, Fune, 12, 1694.
When the laſt of all Knights is the firſt of allKnaves, p.2.l.de
A noted Perſon, the very, finſt whom King William
knighted, at which Dubbing, he muſt then be confe-
quently the laſt preferr'd to the Honour of Knighthood;
but being a Gentleman fill in great Requeſt at Court,
we muſt not name him, becauſe (as the Proverb ſays)
'tis dangerous meddling with edge Tools.
The beſt of all Pimps is the worst of all Slaves, p. 3. ), 2.
Sir Fleetwood Shepherd, wbo was very expert in the
Art of Pimping, by which he advanc'd hinſelf to 2
Very good Place.
When a Coward is dubb’d for not.fighting, but feeding,
Po 2. 1. 3.
This Gentleman is, ftill alive, fa the Reader muſt
gueſs at him.
And a lubberly Bruit preferr’d for his Breeding, P.2, 1.4
Another good-for-nothing Sparky preferz'd in the
Reign before the laſt, fill alive,
Hog, p. 2. 1.5.
M, and C.
When Prophefies are.coyn'd by a drunkenBuffoon,,p. 2. 1.75
Pareridge the drunken Shoemaker, who turn's Aftron
loger, and was in great Vogue among the Whigs...
Black-Rod given to a bold brazen Karen P. 2. 1.9.
To Sir Fleetwood Shepherd.
Proph. III. Found in the Ruins of the Priry-Garden
January, 29. 1696.
Knight of the North, p. 3. 1. 1.
1
Sir John Fenwick, beheaded on Tawer-hill.
Biting Peer, p. 3. 1. 2.
A Noblemani much noted for his Rambling.
Grey Fox, p. 3. 1. 3.
Sir Stephen For of the Board of Green-Clotba
Wolf in a Chain, p. 3. 1. 4
A Sheriff of London of that Name.
Chalk
A Key to the Prophefies.
1
..؟
11
.
Chalk pays for Cheeſe, p. 3: 1. 5.
Hinting at the general Credir, at the Time tohen
the Money was call'd in, in King William's Reign, 10%
be new coyn'd.
Gold dwindies to Wood, p 3. 1.
Signifies the wooden Tailies given ont at the Exo
chequer, for Payments of Mouéy.
Banks, p. 3. 1. 6. mit
Alluding to the Bank of England; as well as thoſe
of Amſterdam and Venice.
Grocer's-Hall feats to be ſent to the Compter, p. 3. 1.7.-
The Stock of the Bank in Grocer's-Hall, running
one Time very low, by People's fetching out their
Money very faſt.
"Mints do increaſe, p: 3.1.9.
. When the Money was new-coyn'd, Mint's (beſides
that in London) were put up at Exeter, Chefier, and
Norwich.
Shovel, p. 4. I. 2.
Sir Cloudeſly Shovel, Admiral of the Red Squadror,
caft away on the Rocks of Scilly.
Trident, p. 4. 1. 2.
Ą Fork with three Teeth, which the Poets fign
that Neptune, the God of the ſea, carry'd in his Hand,
for a Sceptre, to thew his Sovereignty of the Oceani
-Knaves do a Chapel diſgrace,
That deſerve the same Fate with this Saint of the place,
p. 4. 1. 5, 6.
Points at the Houſe, in which the
Co ſit in,
pühich was formerly a Chapel dedicated to St. Stephens
the Protomartyr, who was ſtoned to Death by the
unbelieving fews.
Cuddon, p. 4. 1.7
Hinted at a nored Man of that Name, who was
Chamberlain of the City of London.
And a Man with a Noſe, p. 4. 1.8. 7."
K-W, who miglit have told Noſes with
any Man, as having a very high Kingſton Bridge, or
Roman One.
A Key to the Propheſies:
.
Proph. IV. Found in a Vault in Lambech-Chapel.
Number that ſtands next to that of the Muſes, p. 5.1.1.
The Number of Nine joyn’d to One, which makesTen.
Member to Man that of viſible Ufe is, p. s. 1. 2.
This Line will be explain’d by what follows.
Thing that fill wiſhes bis Father at Old Nick, p. 5.1. 3.
Becauſe his Father had a good Eſtate, to which he
was Heir.
Panther, p. 5. 1. 5.
The Church of England.
Whoſe Outſide is Braſs, and whose Inſide is Lead, p.5.1.6.
Having che Aſpect of a Scholar without, but in-
wardly fo dull and heavy, that he had not much
Learning nor found Divinity:
Primitive Oracle, p. 5.1.7.
A late Archbiſhop of Canterbury, Primate and Me
tropolitan of all England.
Dunce of great Moderation, p. 5. 1.10.
The abovefaid Archbiſhop.
Benifon, p: 5. 1.11.
Son of Sorrow..
Text isoorte, p. 5. 1, 12
A Pun on Tenifon, 'late Aichuifhop of Canterbury, to
whom this whole Prophecy points.
****法​**********法​****院​********
1.
A Key to Merlin's Propheſy, 1690.
Ure as ye live, who Arthur's Fale deplore, p. 66. 1. 20.
tons, who not dying in his Bed, Sir Richard Blackmoor
wric a moſt notable, not learn'd, Poem upon his Fame
and Glory,
Heaven for you-has an Arthur yet in Stare, p. 66. I. 21.
Tointing to King William, by way of Irony, or Sar-
cifm.
The Bail is hurld: ,
That Sl;oulder hiert, where will she fise the World?
p.67. 1. 5,6.
,
1
I
dilen
A Key for the Remains.
At the Battle of the Boyn in Ireland, King William
the Third was juſt ſcarify'd on the Arm with
a Cannon Ball ; which, had it took him out of the
Land of the Living, our Author, Mr. Brown, by
way of an exclamatory Interrogation, asks, Where
will you fix the World? Being an Allufion, that this
Monarch was as well provided by Nature to ſupport
the terreſtrial Globe on his Shoulders, as Atlas did the
cæleftial One.
******张​张​米米米米米​米米米米​*******法​法​法
​Another Key for this Volume of Remains of
Mr. Tho. Brown.
So us d'in Bonds, or
Malt thore paſs as Current, p. 7. 1. 5:
any other obligatory Papers, for Money that ſhall
lawfully paſs or run betwixt People in Payments, be-
ing deriv'd from Curro, in the Latin Tongue, to run;
and ſo is wittily aſcrib’d to the Currency of the Sil-
ver Piſs-Pot, when converted into Goin.
Chaft Phoenix, p. 8. 1. 13.
Chaft the Phænix muſt be, becauſe there is (as Pliny,
and other Natural Writers report) but only one of this
Species of Birds at one time in the World, which ha-
ving liv'd 600 Years, gathers the richeſt Spices into
a Tree, which, by the futtering of her Wings in the
Aeams of the Sun in Arabia, (where the Head of that
golden Planet is very predominant,) fets Fire to her
Neſt, in which conſuming her felf, out of her alles
proceeds a Worm, and from that Worn another Phoe-
"nix : And from this wonderful Riſe of a freſh Creacure,
the ancient Fathers of the Church produce Similies of
the Doctrine of the Reſurrection of human Bodies.
Let the Rabble run mad, p. 11. 1. 3.
Mr. Brown (the moſt celebrated Author of theſe Re-
mains)in ſome of his former Pieces, uſes the Word Mo-
bile for the Mob or Scum of the People, who, upon
infignificant Diſcontents, make Inſurrections; and
therefore we take Notice of the Word Rabble here, to
A
Key for the Remains.
fhew his Exuberancy of Wit was never confin'd to
one Epithet.
And at Cart's Ariſe to ſeverely whipt, p. 13. 1. 21.
Dr. Oats having, as Partridge the late Aſtrologer
obſerv'd among his fanatick Martyrs in his Alma-
nacks, 13005 Laſhes, allowing 5 Thongs to the Whip,
with which the Hangman chaſtiz’d him, firſt, from
Newgate to Aldgate, and next Day from Newgate to
Tyburn.
Dear Friend, p. 15. 1. 12.
Mr. Oldham, the
greateſt Satyrift of the Age, being
very intimate at Oxford with the Author of theſe
Remains, he had a very good Title to call him his
dear Friend.
Scandalum Magnatum, p. 20. I. 26.
A Writ fo call'd, which in Engliſh fignifies a Scandal
of Peers.
Drew in my Pole, p. 21. I. 18.
It was the Cuſtom of Barbers, in the Reign of Henry
the Third, to hang out Poles and Bafons, to ſignify
to wounded Perſons, that they might have Relief;
they originally pretending to be Barber-Surgeons.
Curſe on the Money, p. 24. 1. 12.
It being a Commodity the Author hereof was fel.
dom troubled with, he lays his Curſe upon it, as be-
ing the Root of all Evil, according to this Line of
Ovid the Poet, Effodiuntur opes, irritamenta malorum.
Julius Mazarinus, p. 25. 1. 1.
The famous Cardinal Mazarine of. France, who, and
Cardinal Richlieu, were the two moſt eminent Stateſ-
men, in their Time, of all Europe.
Thomas James, p. 27. 1. 19.
Warden of All-Soul's College in Oxford.
Bluddius, p. 29. 1. 14.
Mr. Blood, a Clergyman, who, in the Reign of
King Charles the Second, knocking down the Keeper
of he Imperial Crown of England, in the Tower of
London, ſtole it away; and preſenting it to his Maje-
fty
A Key for the Remains.
a
ity before he was apprehended, was rewarded with a
very great Preſent.
Sherlock, that Man of Senſe, p. 31. 1. 9.
'The Father of the preſent Dr. Sherlock, Dean of Ghi-
cheſter, and Maſter of the Temple; who, out of a Spirit
of Contradiction, not Conſcience, adhering to the
Doctrine of Paſſive-Obedience, and Non-Reſistance, writ
much in Defence thereof, in the Reign of King Wild
liam; but his Wife-finding herſelf not ſo often invi.
ted to great Chriſtenings and Funerals as formerly;
made the old Man play Cat-in-Pan, ſo that he be-
came as ftrong a Williamite as before he pretended to
be a Jacobite.
of all their boated Light, p. 36. l.1.
Mr. Brown is ſo critical in moſt of his Writings,
that we will not preſume to decide, Whether he means
the Quakers pretended Light within, or the Womens
Lightneſs or Levity without, as being the beſt Breed-
ers in all his Majeſty's Dominions.
& Scotia Presbyter Profugis, p. 36. 1. 8.
A true Character of a Scotch Parſon ; but fint pauca
l
verba inter amicos, ought to be ſtrictly obſervºd in
theſe dangerous Times,
Algernoon Sidney, p. 59. 1.'10
Belieaded on Tower-Hill, in the Reign of King Charles
the Second, for being in the Preſbyterian Plot, for
which the Lord Ruſſel ſuffer'd alſo the fame Fate in
Lincolns-Inn Fields.
He fixes a Desk on Bucephalus's Main, p: 71. 1. 6.
Bucephalus was the Name of the Horſe which Alex-
ander the Great rode,
We pay for our New-born, and we pay for cur Dead,
We pay if we are ſingle, we pay. if we wed, p. 73.1. 11, 12.
Meaning the Tax formerly made for paying for
Marriages, Births, and Burials.
The Remains are general Satyrs that need no Ex-
planation.
a
I
[i]
THE
REMAINS
r Of the fate Celebrated
Mr. THO. BROWN,
Serious and Comical, in Proſe and
Verſe, Wbich makes his Works
Compleat.
Mr. Brown's Prophecies.
A Prophecy found under the Foundation of the Chappel
of Wallingford Houſe, engraved on Lead, and dif
cover'd on Saturday the 2d of June, 1694, and fent
by T. Povey, Esq; to the Lord Mayor, who Pro-
elaim'da Faft thereon.
ET
SHEN Tewksbiry Muſtard ſhall wan-
(der abroad,
And die in a Land without Magpye
oth?
(or Toad,
Then the Samce of the Veal, join-
(ing three to one Lyon,
Shan devour a Fiſh, the Pad-nag of Arion :
A Vol. V.
B
The
2 A PROPHECYc,
.
, &C.
The Lillies ſhall try to ſwim over the Ferry,
Where they ſhall be met with, and drowned
(by Cherry
The Children of France, with Famine oppreft,
that their Mother has never a Breat.
Shall weep
1
3 33
A
PROP HEC Y ,
Found under the Trees and Bench in St. James's
Park the 12th of June, 1694. engrar'd in
Copper, and carry'd to my Lord Chamberlain,
?
by Serjeant Barecroft.
HEN the laſt of all Knights is the
(firſt of all Knaves,
And the beſt of all Pimps is the
W
(worſt of all Braves;
When a Coward is
ka for not
(Fighting, but Feeding,
Anda Lubber ly Brute preferr'd for his Breeding:
When a Medál and Chain is beſtow'donia Mbog,
Who deſerves more a Rope, than ever did Dog,
When Prophecies, are coin d by a Drunken But-
(foon,
Whoſe chief Talent lies in abufive Lampoon;
When the Black-Rod is given to a bold brazen
(Face,
What Beaſt may not hope at Whitehall for a
DI FR16 00(Place?
اره زمر
7.10 A
RARAZARATAS
A
PROPHECY
Found on Friday the 29th of January, 1696. by
Sorne Workmen digging up the Ruins of the
Privy-Garden, and by them carry'd to thera
Other of the Black-Rod, as it was written in
a Scroll of Parchment.
rade HEN a Knight of the North is lopp'd
(in Ax-Yard,
By a biting P---'s Trick having
plaid
(a falſe Card;
When at the Green-Cloth a Grey
(Fox do's preſide,
And a Wolf in a Chain thro' the City does ride ;
When Chalk pays for Cheeſe, and Gold dwin-
(dles to Wood,
And Banks rather let in than keep out the
(Flood,
When Grocers-Hati fears to be fent to the
(Compter,
Publick Faith being ſo light that a Feather
will
(mount her:
# When the Coin ſcarcer grows, tho' the Mints
(do increaſe,
And we are maul'd with a War, without hopes
(of a Peace,
B 2
When
a
4
Found in the PRIV Y-GÁRDEN.
When the Ocean's fo Frenchify'd, few Ships
(dare ride in't,
And is ruld by a Shovel inſtead of a Trident ;
When Juſtice is forced to abandon the Land,
Tho' moſt people are ſeen with her Scales in
(their Hand:
When a Packof brib'dKnaves do a Chappel diſgrace,
That deſerve the fame Fate with the Saints in
(the Place:
When London's great Wiſdom is ſeen in a Cud.
(don,
And a Man with a Noſe do's Things that he
(ſhoud’n :
Then England, I tell thee, thout curſedly
(Shamm'd,
Tis too late to repent, ſo fin on and be
(damn'd.
ADA
А
5
Contacts
300-
tit:16:56
A
PROPHECY
Found in a Vault in Lambeth
Chappel.
HEN the Number that ſtands next
(to that of the Muſes,
W And the Member to Man that of
(viſible uſe is :
When the Thing that ſtill wiſhes
(his Dad at Old-Nick,
But together aſpires to an Arch-biſhoprick:
When the Panther, fo ſpotleſs, is plagu'd with
(a Head,
Whoſe Outſide is Braſs, and whoſe Inſide is
(Lead :
When Lambeth its Primitive Oracle loft;
Inſtead of a Pillar, is propt with a Poſt:
And Britain beholds, in an eminent Station,
An inınıod'rate Dunce of great Moderation ;,
If ſuch a dull Guide to the Church proves a
(Beniſon,
You may Swear Contradictions are true, and
(that Ten-is-one.
B 3
ON
QUQ0:0uDuell euiuosiuSOODUU TUOIO
Ο Ν
A Silver PIS S-POT,
Occaſion’d by a Bill to compel the bringing in of
Plate to be Coin'd, 1696-7.
Aids need no nioré their Silver Pifs-
(pots fcour,
M
For they muſt jog, like Traytors, to
(the Tower.
Preſumptuous Pifpot , how durft
(thou offensila?
Compelling Females on their Knees to bend!
To Kings and Queens we humbly bow the Knee,
But Queens themſelves are forc'd to ſtoop to Thee.
To thee they cringe, and with a ftraining Face
They eaſe their Grief by opening of their Cafe ;
In Times of need, thy Help they do inplore,
And oft to eaſe their Ailments make thee
(roar;
What Woman, thoʻof ſtricteſt Modeſty,
But her dear Secret wou'd in part to Thee?
Long haſt thou been a Pris'ner and confin'd,
But Liberty is now for thee defign'd:
Thee
fo
111
10
22.
oft
ee,
231
;
C
226
her
OF
V%ᏓᏙ
Melesinda,
8,
MEILS IND A's. Misfortune, &c.
7
Thee whom ſo many Beauties have enjoy'd,
Now in a better State ſhalt be imploy'd.
And with Delight be handled every Day,
And oft'ner occupy'd another way :
So ſhalt thou paſs as Currant and as free
As that which has ſo often into thee.
000 500000003090088
MELESINDA's Misfortune
on the. Burning of her Smock,
1690.
Ir'd with the Bus'neſs of the Day,
Upon her Couch ſupinely lay;
T Fáir Meleſinda void of Care,
No living Creature being near :
When Itrait a calni and gentle Sleep
Did o'er her drowſy Eye-lids creep:
Her Senſes thus by Fetters tyd,
By nimble Fancy were fupply'd:
Her quick Imagination brought
Th' Ideas of her waking Thought;
She dreamt her ſelf a new-made Bride
In Bed, by young Philander's Side:
The Poffet's eat, the Stocking thrown,
And all the Company's withdrawn;
And now the bleſt Elikum,
Of all her wiſht for Joys, is come.
Philander
B 4
8 ME LESIND A's Misfortune
Philander, all diffolv'd in Charms,
Lyes raptur'd in her circling Arms,
With panting Breaſts, and fwimming Eyes,
She meets the viſionary Joys;
In all the Amorous Poftures Love,
Which th' Height of Extafy cou'd move:
But as ſhe roving did advance
Her trembling Legs, O dire Miſchance!
The Couch being near the Fire-lide,
Sh’expanded them, alas! too wide :
Sh' expos'd her nethermoſt Attire
Unto th’Embraces of the Fire;
So the chaſt Phænix of the Eaſt
With flutt'ring fires her ſpicy Neft.
So Semele, embracing Fove,
Burnt with Fire and with Love.
The Flames at firſt did trembling ſeize
The dangling Hem of the loft Prize;
But finding no Reſiſtance higher,
As 'tis their Nature to aſpire,
Approaching near the Seat of Bliſs,
The Center of earthly Happineſs,
Which vaſtly more of Pleaſure yields,
Than all the feign'd Elyſian Fields:
But Ignorance muſt now excuſe
The Silence of my baſhful Muſe:
Its Modeſty had ne'er the Fac
T'aſcend above the Gartering Place;
But doubtleſs 'twas a lovely Sight
The Fire beheld by his own Light.
So Ovid with'd himſelf a Flea,
That ſo transform'd he night ſurvey
His
on the Burning of her Smock. 9
His Love all o'er, and uncontroul'd
Her very Grace and Charm behold.
Had Ovid's Flea been there to Night,
I fear 't had had but ſmall Delight,
His Rival Flames had ſpoild his Bliſs,
And made him Curſe his Metamorphoſis.
At laſt the Flames were grown ſo rude,
They boldly ev'ry where intrude ;
They ſoon recalled the Lady's Senfe,
And chac'd the pleaſing Viſion thence :
Soon as her Eyes recover'd Light,
She ſtrait beheld the diſmal Sight;..
- Beheld her ſelf, like Blazing-Star,
Or bright tail'd Glow-worm to appear :
She had no time to meditate
Upon the Strangeneſs of her Fate;
But was confin'd to lay about,
To beat the impious Fire out:
The am'rous Flames were loth to go,
They kiſs'd her Hand at ev'ry Glow;
And round her Ivory Fingers play,
And ſeem'd as if they begg'd to ſtay.
Vanquilh'd at laſt they did retire,
And in a gloomy Smoak expire.
Then viewing of her half-burnt Smock,
Thus to her ſelf the ſad Nymph ſpoke:
Is this the Effe&t of Dreams? Is this
The Fruit of all my fancy'd Bliſs'?
Misfortunes will, 1 ſce, betide,
When Maidens tbrom their Leggs too wide :
Had I but kept my Legs a-croſs,
I and my Smock had had no tofs :
I onglet
$
ܬ
10
MILESÍNDA's Misfortune, &c.
I ought, I'm ſure, t' have took more heed,
For ne'er had Virgin greater need;
My Kindneſs and my little Care
Has left me ſcarce a Smock to wear :
Some have been beg’d, fome have been burn'd,
All are to Clouts, or Tinder, turn'd.
Tipo Smocks laft Night the Flames ſurpriz’d
And in the Flasket ſacrific'd;
Others I did on Friends beftón,
Not dreaming I Mou'd want 'em nord ;
But I cou'd bear the Lofs of them,
Had not the Fire diſturb'd my Dream.
There is a Saying frights me too,
But Heav'n forbid it Mou'd be true;
That where a Virgin burns her Train,
So, all her Life-time, med remain.
I dare not be of this Belief,
For Mou'd I, I Mould die with Grief,
Live always here a Nun-like Life
And never, never be a life;
Never enjoy a Marriage-Bed,
Nor loſe a hated Maidenhead:
Ab! Cruel Flames, you're too unkind
To bring theſe Fancies to my Mind: :
Down, down into your native Cell,
In your own Blazing Regions dwell:
Vex me no more, let me pollefs
My Linen, or my Dream in Peace.
Thus the poor Nymph, bewaild her treach'rous
(Luck.
At once to loſe ſo good a Dreani and Snock.
THE
:د.
رنا .. ن)
it
܀
いい
​におい
​COLU'LL},
. . , 15'. Τ Η Ε
Claret Drinker's SONG;
SCO: O Reis'".
,
The Gaod Fellow's Deſign, 1684.
12:0)
"
ܐܼ، ، ܐ
Pox of this fooling and Plotting of
(late,
A What a Pother and Ştir hath it kept
(in the State? !
Let the Rabble run nad with Sufpi-
(cions and Fears,
Let'em ſcuffle and jar "till they fall by the Ears:
Their Greisançeş never ſhall trouble my. Pate,
So that. I can enjoy my dear Bottle in Quiet.
What Coxcombs were thoſe that wou'd farther.
(their Eafe,
And their Neçks, for a Toy, a thin Wafer and
(Maſs,
At old Tyburn they never had needed to.ſwing,
Had they been true Subjects to Drink, and their
(KING
A Friend and a Bottle is all my Deſign,
It has no Room for Treaſon that's top full of
(Wine.
او و ما
I mind
12 The Claret Drinkers SONG, &c.
ins
I mind not the Members, nor Makers of Laws,
Let 'em ſit and prorogue as his Majeſty pleaſe:
Let 'em dania us to Woollen I'll never repine,
At my Lodging when Dead, ſo alive I haveWine:
Yet, oft in ny Drink, I can hardly forbear
To curſe 'em for making my Claret ſo dear:
I mind not great Afles who idly debate
About Right and Succeffion, the Tritles of State)
We've a Good King
already, and he deſerves
(Laughter
That will trouble his Head with who ihall come
(after.
Come, here is his Health, and I wiſh he may be
As free from all Cares and Troubles as we.
What care I how Leagues with Hollanders go,
On Intreigues between Sydney and Monſieur
(D'avaux?
What concerns it my Drink, if Cazal be ſold,
If the Conquerour takes it by Storming, or Gold?
Good Bourdeaux alone is the Place that I mind,
And when the Fleet's coming, I pray for the
(Wind:
The Bully of France, that aſpires to Renown,
By dull cutting of Throats, and ventring his own:
Let him fight and be damnd, make Matches
(and Treat,
To afford News-mongers and Coffee-Houſes
(Chat.
He's but a brave Wretch, whilſt I am niore free,
More ſafe, and a Thouſand times happier than
(he:
Come
Advice to Dr. O. A TE S. 13
Come he, or the Pope, or the Devil too boot,
Orcone Faggot or Stake, I care not a Gșoat:
Never think thatin Smithfield I Porters will heat,
No, I ſwear, good. Mr.Fox, excuſe me for that
I'll Drink in defiance of Gibbet and Halter,
This is the Profeflion that never will alter.
JWILWIEK:3:28W2-3
628369296W.
Advice to Dr. O ATES not to be
Melancholly in 1685, when a
Priſoner in the King's Bench.
j
s I'nı inforn'd, on Monday laſt
(you ſat
A
As diſmal as a Melancholly
Cat,
Folding your Arms, and pulling
(down your Hat
Over your Eyes, and groaning in a Chair,
As if you did for God knows what deſpair :
Fye, Doctor, Fye! you know it is a Foly,
Thus to ſubmit and yield to Melancholly;
For 'twill mutabilate poor Nature's Light,
And turn it's Day into a gloony Night:
Alas! what if you have been often ſtript,
And at a Cart's-Arſe fo feverely whipt,
That Rivulets of Blood ran dawn your Back,
Through Slaſhes given you by Hangman Jack?
And
14 Advice to Dr. O ATES.
(Tail.
And further (which was Puniſhment enough)
What tho you fometimes wore a Wooden
(Ruff?
And what if Oates be now laid in a Gaola
('Stead of a Barn) and threſhed with that
(ſame Flall
We call Contempt? Shit, let 'em kiſs your
]
'Long as (through Providence) you are fup:
(ported
Almoſt of all your Presbytere courted
By all the Holy Sifters, and are courted
;
What need you care whoſe Dunghill, Sir, you
(Thic on?
Thofe that take up the Sword for-G muſt
(fight on.
But if your Sadneſs does proceed from Fear
Of being mounted on a Three-legg'd-Marea
And in a Line) to Preach a Sermon there;
Well may you Melancholly be, and vex,
Becauſe the Jade does always break the Necks
Of thoſe that riţe upon her: Therefore fure
Nothing ſo great a Penance can endure.
Or Doctor, if you have an inward Sting,
For ſwearing failly againſt Pickering;
And many niore innocent poor Wretches,
Your Heart muſt needs be grip'd and full of
(Stitches,
And you may well through Fear befhit your
(Breeches.
If you are guilty of thoſe horrid Crimes,
Defer not, Doctor, but repent betimes :
LE
To the Memory of Mr. JOHN OLDHAM. is
If your Heart be Flinty hard, and Stony
Doubtleſs you'll be damn'd, and go to Tony:
That was the fubtle Fox that fet you on;
He eat the Meat, and made you pick the
(Bone;
· He ran away, and left the Gooſe alone.
But who can helpit? Tisin vain to fret;
By vexing you may loſe, but nothing get,
Therefore be Merry, Sir, as you were won't;
Inſtead of fulſome, uſe a wholeſome----
.
To the Memory of Mr. JOHN
OLD HAM.
OR that is dangerous for a Man
(to be
F FC ,
Too buſy with immutable Decree,
Icou'd, Dear Friend, e'en blame thy
(cruel Dooni,
That lent ſo much, to be requir'd ſo foon:
The Flowers, in which the Meads are deck'd
(lo gay:
Altho' they are ſhort-liv'd, they live a Day;
Thou in the Noon of Life wer't ſnatch'd
(away.
Tho'not before thy Verſe had Wonders ſhown,
And bravely niade the Age to come thy own.
The Company of Beauty, Wealth, and Wine,
Were not ſo charning, not ſo ſweet as thine.
They
16 To the Memory of Mr. JOHN OLDHAM.
They quickly periſh, yours was ſtill the ſame,
An everlaſting, but a lambent Flame,
Which ſomething ſo reſiſtleſs did impart
It ſtill through ev'ry Ear, won ev'ry Heart.
Unlike the Wretch, who ſtrives to get Eſteem;
Nay, thinks it fine, and jantee to blaſpheme,
"'And can be witty on no other Theme,
Ah! Fooliſh Man! (whom thou did'ſt ſtill
deſpiſe)
That muſt be wicked to be counted wiſe :
But thy Converſe was from this Error free;
And yet 'twas every Thing true Wit cou'd be:
Noné had it, but ev'n with a Tear does own
The Soul of Dear Society is gone.
But while we thus thy Native Sweetneſs ſing,
We ought not to forget thy Native Sting;
Thy Satyr ſpar'd no Follies, nor no Crimes,
Satyr the beſt Reformer of the Times!
While diff'rent Prieſts eternally conteſt,
And each will have his own Religion beſt,
And in a Holy Huff danins all the reſt.
Their love to Gain, not Godlineſs, is ſhown:
Heav'ns Work they leave undone, to do their
own.
How wide ſhoot they that ſtrive to blaſt thy
(Fame,
By ſaying that thy Verfe was rough and lame?
They wou'd have Satyr thei: Compaſſion,
(move,
And write ſo pliant nicely, and ſo ſmooth,
As if the Muſe were in a Flux of Love.
}
But
:-To the Memory of Mr. JOHN OLDHAM. 17
But who of Knaves, and Fops and Fools does ſing
Muſt Force, and Fire, and Indignation bring,
For 'tis no Satyr, if it has no Sting.
In ſhort, who in that Field wou'd famous be,
Muſt think, and write like Juvenal and thee:
Let others boaſt of all the mighty Nine,
To make their Labours with more Luſtre ſhine,
I never had no other Mufe but Thee:
Ev'n thou wert all the mighty Nine tó Me;
'Twas thy Dear Friendſhip did my Breaſt
(inſpire,
And warni'd it firſt with a Poetick Fire:
Bat'tis a warmth that does with thee expire.
For when the Sun is ſet, that guides the Day,
The Traveller muſt ſtop, or lofe his Way.
a
A
18
228228238
А
SATYR on MARRIAGE,
Suppoſed to be ſpoken by one who was threaten’d to
be diſinherited, on condition be refus’d the
March that was offer'd him by his Friends.
RO---letniy Friends determine what
N
(they will,
I'm fixt,and keep ny Reſolution ſtill,
Againſt the Threaten'd Marriage
(Bonds declare
With Them and all the World eternal War:
My Freedom I at its juſt Value rate,
And love my Quiet, more than my Eſtate :
Marriage of each is the deſtructive Bane,
No ſooner match'd but we lament in vain
Their fatal Loſs, which we muſt e'er fu-S
.
Of all its Days the firſt and laſt are beſt,
So vaſtly is it! ſo compleatly bleſs'd!
Oh! glorious State! repleniſh'd with Delight!
A Hundred Ills each Day, for one good Night!
In Marriage ſure, if any Comfort be,
'Tis in the hope that we may once be free,
When
A SATYR on MARRIAGE. 19
}
}
When kinder Death the Union has unty'd,
And taken to himſelf the gracious Bride.
Who ever cou'd the tireſom Load ſuſtain,
But for the Hope once to be freed again?
For why ſhou'd Man, of a free gen'rous Mind,
Be to one Obiect all his Daysconfin'd?
Still ty'd to what He cannot Love ſo faſt,
And find no Reſt until he finds his laſt:
Ten thouſand Tortures in his Soul ariſe,
And while in Spight fhe lives, each hour He
(dies.
For me I'm too much to my felf a Friend,
To chuſe thoſe Evils which this State attend.
I hate a Bargain, when we go to woo
Why can't we all things as compleatly do,
Without the Curate and the Lawyer too?
When once the dire ill-omen'd yes we ſiy,
The Joys of Love foon vaniſh all away,
The thing's quite ſpoil'd, becauſe a Duty grown,
And pleaſes now no more becauſe our own;
But what's forbidden fiercely we purſue,
And wondrous Charms are in the thing callid
(New.
Wou'd you at height maintain the pleaſing Flame,
Then carefully preſerve a Lover's Name,
By Forms Love's brisk Affairs are ruin'd quite,
And the dull Name of Husband palls Delight:
Beſide, the tedious Yoak what need we baar.
When we may be as unconfind as Air?
Not forc'd to live in Diſcontent and Noiſe,
And all thoſe Griefs that wait neglected Joys ;
But uncontrould at Liberty to range,
Or when o'er-labour'd find our Eale in Change.
Oh!
20 A SATYR on MARRIAGE.
Hend
Oh! with what art th' induſtrious Lover tries
To hide his Failings from his Celia's Eyes?
But when eſpous’d, 'tis then no longer ſo,
Each other than too ſoon, too well they know,
Then forth each hid Defect with Vigour ſprings,
All Cares to pleaſe accounted needleſs things,
Soon all the rare accompliſh'd Glories fade,
Like a fine Flower in its Bloom decay'd!
He that was once ſo neat! ſo trin! ſo gay!
Like the delightful Month of ſmiling May,
Wears a perpetual Cloud upon his Brow,
And looks as low'ring as December now:
You'dthink He'd nought butLaw-ſuits in his Head
And all his Grace and all his Wit is Aled,
By Wedlock made a perfect uſeleſs Tool,
A droning Idiot, and a dreaming Fool!)
And whoſo does an equal Hazard run,
Can he expect that very Fate to ſhun?
Or juſtly think he's thus ſufficient grown
To be her Maſter, who is not his own?
No! no! He'll find that all his Skill will fail,
Altho' he is the Head; to rule her Tail:
Of this ſo ferious Bus'neſs, if you doubt,
Illuſtrious Cordyon Mall make it out:
We ſafely now may quote the glorious Peer,
And need no Scandalum Magnatum fear.
Cuckold of high Degree! and that he's ſo,
He's taken Pains that all the World ſhou'd know
Davis's Fate's like his, and Collin's too,
Whoſe Bufineſs, tho’more ſecret, is as true.
Shou'd I thro' all the Race of Cuckolds run,
To name them all, I never ſhould have done;
Or
Oxford Barber's VERSES, 21
Or tell ſince the firſt Planting of the Horn,
What vaſt Encreaſe each Age and Soil has born.
In Paradice the Serpent, ſome believe,
With ſomething elſe than Apples tempted Eve;
The thing is well ſuppos d the Creature's wiſe,
And knows the Worth of Opportunities!
But ſay that this Suſpicion is unjuſt,
Yet why ſhou'd Man to Woman's Frailty truſt?
No! as a Wiſeman ought, I'll be ſecure,
And keep me from the Danger that I may be
(ſure.
Oxford Barber's VERSES
on Queen Mary's Death,
1695
OON as the diſmal News came
(down,
S
And ſpread it ſelf about the Town,
I'in a trice, with heavy Soul,
As Snails their Horns, drew in my
(Pole,
Shut Shop, and in a Paſſion fwore,
I'd never uſe ny Sciſfars more:
Since Lacheſis fo raſh had been,
To cut the. Throat of gracious Queen;
But I deſigning more
Than ever Barber did before,
Refoly'd
22 On Queen Mary's Death.
ܬܳܐ܃ ܃ ܃ :3
Reſolv'd on the too fad Occaſion
To exerciſe a ftrange Vocation,
Rhyme, the great Buſineſs of the Nation.
I thought it errant Shapie to fetter
True Engliſh Senſe in Foreign Metre:
For none do bury, 1 conjecture,
Folks in Outlandish Manufacture:
Not, but that I ny Grief cou'd tell
In any other Tongue as well.
Whether in Turkiſ or Arabick,
In Ethiopick, or Malabrick,
In Cambro-Britanick or Togray,
Or Lingua Balaam's Aſs did bray;
But why ſhou'd I my Readers vex
In ſhort already I
With theſe Barbarian back
And done what I firſt intended,
Tis uncotrebted, unamended.
No Tutor did this work peruſe,
Nor Money hird a Hackney Muſe,
Tho'that's the Fashion of the Town,
This I proteft is all my own.
kiny BRA
Dialects.
DI
a
Viss, Hisi alia?
CELTS ilii,,,?
2 cu griepen
io juntos
S701 Jun
& su
tis
23
Upon Love, in Imitation
E
of COWLEY.
By Mr. BROWN.
Hether we Mortals love or no,
'Tis the ſame Cafe whate'er we do.
For Love does killing Pleafure give,
And without Love 'tis Death to
If then to love, fo painful be,
(Live:
And not to love be Miféry, 1.0!in...
What a fad Cafe muſt he be in;
OVET
Who has diſgrac'd and fried been?!.03
Baniſh'd for ever from thoſe Eyes, ...37424
Which conquer Fools, and fool the Wiſe,
And none but Stoicks can defpife?
UR
They conquery but they will not yieldiun
Love knows no fichlanéqual field iPo bronz
;
y
But in Love's gentle Figkeit 10 9 luss 2370 I
Both Conquer; whien me both patie:
Son 31
Sometimes the better to perſwadę, 13!W
101 listw
I call in Heraldry to my Aid:
I ſpeak my Sire's and Grandfire's Praiſe,
Teri her how Brave, how Good he was:
Theu magnify my ſelf, and ſay,
How Wife, how Witty, and how Gay
I ang
24 Opon Love, in imitation of Cowley.
I am, and (as the times go now)
How conſtant, and how ſober too:
But ſhe, inſtead of this, demands
What Stock, what Money, Sir? what Lands?
Shepherds and Clowns inherit Life,
Do you e'er think to get a wife?
Becauſe your Dad was born before ye,
That, Sir, is but an idle Story.
ThoMen be witty, wife or gay;
Fools may love as well as they :'
2
Wit will not pleaſe at Night, nor profit in the
(Day.
Curſe on the Money, wou'd he were
Sunk beyond Hell to languiſh there,
Condemn’d to everlaſting Chains;
Where the rich Miſer Pluto reigns.
Who firſt call’d Counters Happineſs,
What an improper thing is this?
That Money is th' common Cauſe of Strife,
The Common Barrater of Life,
Sets Brethern into niortal Fray,
Makes Children Parents diſobey,
Makes Wars and Slaughters to abound,
Where Peace, and Joy, before were found;
And which is worſt of all, it does
Loves gentle Votaries abuſe,
It does to Love it's pow'rful Aids deny,
Whilſt, for want of it, the Lovers dye.
ci
::..:: Là
5
Fulii
V Ci
T
V: houslissin Vili ya
1
25
SAREA CARTARE
JULII MAZARINI Cardi-
nalis Epitaphium.
н
HIC jacet Julius Mazarinus,
Gallie Rex Italicus,
Ecclefia Præſul Laicies,
Europa prado purpuratus.
Fortunam omnem ambiit, omnem corrupit ;
Ararium adminiftravit exhauſit,
Civile Bellum compreffit, ſed commovit ;
Regni Jura tuitus eft, & invafit ;
Beneficia poſledit, vendidit.
Pacem dedit aliquando, diu diftulit,
Hoftes cladibus, Cives oneribus afflixit;
Arriſit paucis, irriſit plurimos,
Omnibus nocuit.
Negotiator in Templo, Tyrannus in Regno,
Prado in Minifterio,
Vulpes in Concilio,
Grafator in Bello,
Solus nobis in Pace Hoftis.
Fortunam olim adverſam, aut eluſit, aut vicit.
Et noftro feculo vidimus
Adorari Fugitivum,
Imperare Civibus exulem,
Vol. V.
с
Regnare
26. Julii Mazarini Cardinalis Epitaphium.
Regnare Profcriptum.
Quid deinde egerit ? rogas ? paucis accipe
Lulīti, fefellit, rapuit. .
Ferreum nobis induxit feculum, fibi ex Auréo noftro
Aurum fecit.
Quorundam Gapiti nullius Hjortunis pepercia
Home crudeliter Clemens;
Pluribus,tardem Morbis; elanguit,
Plures in Colo mortes irrogante,
Cui Senatus olim unam tantum
decreverat,
Vincemi ſe arcibus incluſit moriturus;
Et quidem apte
Quafivit Carcerem.
Diu cedentem Animam retinuit, agre reddidit.
Sic retinere omnia didicerat,
Nihil ſua ſponte reddere.
Conftanter tamen viſus eft mari ; quid mirum ?
Vt vixit, fic obiit diffimulans.
Ne morbum quidem noverunt qui curabant,
Hac una fraude nobis profuity
Fefellit Medicas.
Mortuus eft tamen nifallimur, o moriens
Regem Regno, Regnum Regi reftituit.
Reliquit,
Prafulibus peffima Exempla,
Aulicis infida Concilia;
Adoptivo ampliffima Spolin,
Paupertatem Populisi
Succeſoribus ſuis.omnes pradandi Artes,
Sed. Predam nullam
Immenfas tamen Opes licet profuderit.
Id unum habuit tantum, ex ſuo, quod daret,
Nomen ſuumi
Pectus
Fulii Mazarini Cardinalis Epitaphium. 27
Pectus ejus poft Mortem apertum eft ;
Tum primum patuit vafrum Cor
Mazarini;
Quod nec Precibus, nec Lachrymis,nec Injuriis mo-
(veretur,
Diu quæfivimus, invenere Medici
Cor Lapideum;
Quod mortuis
adhuc omnia moveat o adminiſtret,
(ne mireris
Stipendia in hunc Annum accepit ;
Nec fraudat poft mortem, vir bona fidei.
Quo tandem evaferit tandem rogitas?
Cælum
fi rapiturtenet, fidatur
meritis, longe abeft.
Sed abi Viator, a cave,
Nam hic Tumulus
Eft Specus Latronis.
费费费费费费​资​蒙​婆婆​带​带​带​後​發​發​發​發​發
​Epitaphium Domini Doctoris
JAMES, Cuſtodis Coll. Om.
Animal Oxon.
H
IC jacet qui fub nullo lateret marmore!
Thomas James, S.S. Theologiæ Doétor,
Collegij hujus vere Cuſtos,
Optimo dignus Monumento,
Nullius indigens,
Quemp nec parcus. Invidia Sermo,
C 2
Nec
ET
28 Epitaphium Dom. Doétoris James.
Nec propria Modeftia,
Nec Mortis Umbra poſſunt celare.
Cujus in Laudibus celebrandis.
Nec Fama loquax, nec ipſa mendax,
Poterit efle Epitaphium.
Sed plura vetat magnarum
Virtutum Comes verecundia.
Hoc igitur omnia breve claudat Encomium
Vivus Amicos habuit Homines,
Moriens Conſcientiam,
Mortuus Deum.
Ætatis fue LXVII.
Obiit 5° Jan. Anno Dom. CIOCLXXXVI.
లేలేలేతitated tet
Monumentum fibi fieri vetuit,
Beatiffimus Pater,
Thomas Willis & Henricus Fones,
Poſuere
E duabus Sororibus Nepotes.
1
Jetatis elle Arbitrati,
P Huic uni ejus mandato non ob-
(temperare,
Predicandum fibi,
Minime cenfuere hunc talem virum,
Meliorem quam ut vellet laudari,
Majorem quam ut pollet.
Delide
Monumentum Thomas Willis, Óc.
29
Defideratiſſimi Patris Pictatem
Non hoc Saxum ;
Sed hæc teftenter Mania,
Munificentiam hujus Loci Ædificia ;
Liberalitatem Alumni.
Quid in moribus informandis
Quid in publicis Curis fuftentandis Academia,
Quid in propaganda Religione, Ecclefia,
Quam feliciter Juventutem erudierit, Procerum
(Familie,
quam præclare de Republica meruerit tota An-
(glia,
Quantum de bonis Literis, univerfus Orbis Lite-
(ratus.
అంతల లలలతలాతలతలతతతిక లతల తలలతలలలల..
In Diadema Regium a BLOOD-
DIO Furtim ablatum.
B Luddins ut damnum ruris repararet
Aviti,
Addicit fiſco dum Diadema (uo.
Egregium facro facinus velavit amictu
(Larva magis Reges fallere nulla potet)
Excidit aft auſis tałžus pietate profana,
Cuftodem ut ſervet, maluit ipſe capi.
Si modo ſavitiam texiſet Pontificalem
Vefte Sacerdotis, rapta Corona foret.
M.S.
C 3
21
30
زیاد از
2UXURL
M.S.
JOHANNES FELL, S.T. P.
q8:
Ongworthia Bercherienfium natus,
L
In hanc Adem,
A Paire Decano admifus
Alumnus Undecennis,
Magifiralem Togam ante induit quam fumeret Vi.
(rilere.
Sucros Ordines
Dinconitus, vuillante Ecclefiu,
Presbyteratus, penitus everſa,
Aufus eft fufcipere,
Et Eccleña reliquias ea fovit Cura
Qua prelufiffe videatur Epifcopatui.
Spectata
la utrumque CAROLUM fide
A Filio tandem reſtaurato
Tutelam bujus Ecclefiæ Decanus accepit,
Et huic tante plus quam par Provincie.
Epifcopatum una Oxonienfem
Feliciter adminiftravit.
Sed dum ſaluti publice intentus
Negligeret ſuam,
Ab Ecclefia iterum periclitante deſideratus
eft.
Quam
The Female Cafuit, &c.
31
Diaconus, A.D.1647.3 Deacdnus, A. D. 1660.
Presbyter, A.D.1649. S2 Epifcopus, A. D. 1675.
17}
Natus Jun. 23. A.D. 1625.
Mortuus Yul. 10. A.D. 1686.
AZZEAAA
The Female Caſuift; or, Sherlock's
Converfion, 1690.
C
-P
Alive-Obedience and Non-
Reſistance out of Doors are gone;
Sherlock himſelf, that Man of Senſe,
Hasſworn, fome fay, to ſave his
(Pence :
Others will have it that he fwore,
'Cauſe grown ridiculonlly poor ;
And that, like Job, upon an Hill
Of Dung he fat, lamenting, while
His wiſer Wife reproaching faid,
He for himſelf no Reafon had;
For why (quoth the great Tillotſon,
Stilling fleet, Patrick, Teniſon,
Horneck, Henchman, and the whole Gown,
Preach up for ſwearing thro' the Town:
.
Nay, Oxford Jane, to keep his Place,
We hear has turn'd his other Face ;
And alſo Beveridge the brave,
And who can think theſe play the Knave ?
C4
Since
32
The Female Caſuift ; or,
Since whilom they, and ſome few more
Baffled Scotch Burnet o’er and o'er ;
Forcing our Synod to comply,
And own three Creeds and Trinity.
In Cambridge too, the famous Gower
Hinder'd others, himſelf yet fivore :
So lately Salamanca Oates,
By gentle ſwearing, fav'd our Throats :
Beſides (quoth fhe) our Dukes place El-
And hundreds more too long to tell.
In learned wife, quoth Hudibras,
As Caſuiſt in ſuch a Caſe;
He that ſwears againſt his Will,
Is of the fame Opinion ftill:
Therefore, Dear, prithee ne'er more look
On thy Palive-Obedience Book ;
But mark what others do before you,
And what great Ones will then adore you :
There's the long Robe, whoſe ſubtle Pate
Firſt taught us how to abdicate;
Then Mob, Car, Par, IVill, and Mall,
And of Black-Coats the Devil and all:
Thus you ſee 'tis more than plain,
They that ſwear not are Rogues in grain.
a
The
33
the
The Practical Quaker; or,
New Lights.
--Velut inter ignes
Luna minores. Hor.
(Town
N Doggrel Rhymes we feldom uſe
To ſtay for any Gods, or Mufe ;
I
But in ſo nice a Caſe as this,
I think it cannot do amifs :
For all the Link-Boys round the
Have ſworn (I hear) to run them down;
The Men of Tallot, Wick, and Cotton,
The Tinmen too the Cry have gotten,
Whom, let me ſee, ſhall we retain ?
Phæbus for once ſhall be the Man.
Great God of Lights ! we thee invoke,
If not on t'other Side beſpoke ;
The Stars above, to us below,
Juſt like your Farthing-Candles fhow;
Whilſt thou, with glorious Luſtre crown'd,
Doſt hang like one of Six in the Pou:id;
Thou, who'rt all Eye, caſt half an one
Down on this new Invention.
Tis knew indeed to Men below,
But known in Heav'n long ago;
CS
The
34
The Practical Quaker ; or,
The Stars, in ſuch juſt Chryftal Spheres,
Have burnt above five thouſand Years :
They fear no Storm by Day, or Night,
But thus hang Wind or Weather tight;
And ſo they'll hang till Day of Doom,
By that time they'll their Oil conſume ;
And then their Glaffes breaking round us,
In Flames they'll fall, and ſo confound us ;
Nay, we can prove the Milky-Way,
(For all Sir Sydrophel can fay)
Is but a Street of ſome ſuch Lights,
To guide the heav'nly Folks arights;
The Council-Chamber, up above,
Is hung with ſuch, and Jove's Alcove;
Tin, Horn, and Greaſe they've none, and I
(dare ſwear,
There's ne'er a Tallow-Chandler there.
Prometheus once (that Son of Fame)
Upon a Viſit hither came;
And lik'd the Thing ſo wond'rous well,
He ſtrait upon the Tryal fell :
But whether (as ſome Authors fay)
The Tallow-Chandlers fhew'd foul Play,
Or Link-Boys us'd to break
his Glaſſes,
(For variouſly the Story, paffes;)
The Project fail'd, and he ran mad,
But Luck the Virtuofo had,
That's all the Bird (the Poets fay )
Lies gnawing of hin Night and Day.
May more propitious Fates attend
Our preſent Art-improving Friend ;
Were this Invention underſtood,
'Twou'd be of univerfal Good :
The
the New Lights.
35
I
The Stars might go to Aleep a-nights,
And leave their Work to theſe nemo Lights ;
The Midwife Moon might mind her Calling,
And noiſy Lightman leave his Bawling:
Men might pall in their Horns, and be
From Officers and Summons free;
'Tis thefe Moon-Curfers that maintain
The Cry, by Darknels til to gain ;
Whoſe chief Employ, Tom T---d-man right,
In Winter Weather, lies by Night :
Nay, with ſuch potent Infuence,
Their ſtreaming Rays they do diſpenſe,
That if the Sun thou'd lie too long
Here, he might have his Buſineſs done ;
He might indulge in Thetis' Lap,
And, while they burn, take t'other Nap.
Oh I had vou been the other Night
In Cheapſide, at th'amazing Light,
Where with their fawcer Eyes they hung.
And gåther'd the admiring Throng;
The plying Purks crept into Holes,
Who walk'd the Streets before by Shoals:
The Night cou'd now no longer skreen
The Tavern-Sots from being ſeen ;
The Light-ween they began to rally,
Who blu'd, and türn'd down Grocers. Alley
The Tempeſt you have feen, no doubt,
Juſt ſo the Candles all went ont :
Thoſe filly Tools no more cou'd burn
Than Kitchen-Greaſe before the Sun,
The Quaker, with up-lifted Hands,
By Tea and Nay, the Rogue commends:
OF
36
In Epiſcopum Sarisburienſem.
Of all their boaſted Light, he ſaid,
Theſe never entred once our Head.
When we compare our Times with thoſe are paſt,
We cry, this Age of greater Light can boaſt;
l'll ſay ſo too, if this Device hit right,
Elfe ſwear our Age wants Wit as well as Light.
In Epiſcopum Sarisburienſem.
Scotia Presbyter Profugus,
In Angliam ad bene mentien-
E
(dum,
Reipublica Cauſa aliquando ve-
(nit,
Ibi primum Dominum fuum,
Deinde Regem,
Tandem Ecclefiam, Regnumque prodidit
Egregius mehercule Simulator,
Omnium Horarum Homo.
Proteus nullo (niſi quem metuit)
Nodo Tenendus,
Aliquando pro Regibus diſputavit,
Nunc contra Regein ſuum,
Crift as ſuas erigit Epiſcopales,
Hinc Rebellionis Antiftes,
Olim ad miſeriam damnavit
Et Gehennam feditiofos,
Nunc Calum Terram,
Preſentia & futura
Iifdem promittit,
Homo
In Epiſcopum Sarisburienfem. 37
Homo eruditer miſericors,
Anglie Exul ad Exteras ſe contulit regiones,
Ut malæ fallaret tadium Confcientia;
Sed fruftra håret lateri lethalis arundo;
Cælum non Animum (male fibi confcium
Aliiſque Machinantem) mutat.
Qui trans Mare currit
Sed ubique (ſi credere fas eft)
Religionem quæfivit
Pariſiis, Romæ, Genevx, Amftelodami,
Sed nullibi invenit
Ne quidem in Anglia,
Niſi in Eccleſia Sarisburienſis Cathedra,
Ubi nunc magnifice ſedet
In fui-Gloriam,
Ecclefia Regnique dedecus,
Et bonorum omnium Triftitiam,
De Moribus ſuis corrigendis parum ſollicitus
Precibus publicis in melius
(Si Diis placer) reformandis
Totus incumbit ;
Orandus eft, ut, inter alias novas,
Quas, meditatur formulas,
Hanc precatiuneulam
Secundum Uſum Sarum,
Interferere curaret,
Hic in Templo negotiatori
Da mihi fallere, da Sanetem juftumq; videri,
N.Etem Peccatis & Fraudibus obice Nubem,
Vivit nobis, ve nobis bis in Anglia,
Mazarinus alter
Vidimus triumphare fugitivum,
Et regnare Exulem.
38
A Deſcription of a Country-Life.
In & Letter to Mr.
Pin London,
June 2. 1692
F I did not love you better than
our Stateſmen do a new Ploty a
I
Fop a new Faſhion, and the
Wou'd-be-Wits at Wills do a new
Criticiſm, I would never leave a
parcel of honeſt Fellows that are now duſting
it about, to retire to a Corner by my felf, and
ſend you the Tranſactions of Hartfordſhire.
So much by way of Preface, without which
even a Letter to a Friend now-a-days, not to
mention thoſe unwieldy things called Epiſtles
Dedicatory, is thought as naked as an Arch-
deacon's Hat would be thought by the Coun-
try People, without a Roſe in it.
I have now paſs'd juſt two tedious Months
in the Country, and cannot forbear now and
then to cry out, with a little Alteration from
the words of oir beloved Horace ;
A Deſcription, &
39
o Urbs,quando egote afpiciam, quandoq; licebit
Phyllide nunc pulchra, nunc Bacchi divite fucco
Ducere follicitæ jucunda oblivia vita!
The Effects of this curſed War appear no
where ſo lamentably as they do in thefe Parts
of the World. In London you only find it
in your Gazettes and News-Papers. You have
the Play-houſe to divert you, and the Taverns
are as much croaded as ever. Here we have
Company indeed, and Drink ; but when we
conſider how much the latter is degenerated
from what it was in the time of Peace, it
palls our Mirth, and we are as heavy-hearted
as the Jeros of old were at the ſight of their
fecond Temple.
The Wine, in thoſe few Places where we
find it, is fó intolerably bad, that the 'tis
good for nothing elſe, 'tis a better Argument
for Sobriety, than what all the Volumes of
Morality can afford. My Companion, Jack
Freeman, who you know is a Libertine in his
nature, ſays, it ought to be imployed only in
facred Uſes; for whatever Preparation it de-
ſerves beforehand, it never fails of giving a
Man a Week's Repentance afterwards. The
Duce take nie, if, in ſome of my fullen Mo-
ments, I don't envy a London Fly, I don't
mean an Inhabitant of Smithfield or IV apping,
but one that tipples in a creditable Tavern,
ſomewhere about the Exchange or Temple-Bar.
Where this forry Stuff is not to be had, we
are
A Deſcription of
ܪ
are forced, in our own Defence, to take up
with Punch; but the Ingredients are as long
a ſummoning, as a Colonel would be recruit-
ing his Reginient. In my Conſcience, the
King might ſooner get a Convocation of honeſt
diſintereſted Churchmen together. We muſt
fend to a Market-Town five miles off for Su-
gar and Nutmeg, and five miles beyond that
for rotten Lemons. Water it ſelf is not to
be had without travelling a League for it, and
an unſan&tify'd Kettle fupplies the Place of a
Bowl. Then when we have mix'd all theſe
noble Ingredients, which, generally ſpeaking,
are as bad as thoſe the Witches in Mackbeth
jumble together to make a Charm, we fall too
contentedly, and ſport off an Afternoon.
'Tis true, our Heads ſuffer for it next Morning,
but what is that to an old Soldier? We air our
felves next Morning on the Common, and the
Sin and the Pain are forgotten together.
At other times we do Penance in Itale
March-Beer, which fills and clogs, but never
inſpires. If it gives any Mirth, 'tis fickly and
faint; like the Light one receives from burnt
Brandy, and our Smiles like thoſe of the moo-
dy Almanzor in the Play, are hardly to be
diſtinguiſh'd from a Frown. This Courſe of
Life we led till our Stock was all exhauſted at
home, and then 'twas with us in the Caſe of
Drink, what it was formerly between Maho-
met and the Mountain upon another Occaſion.
If the Drink won't come to us, we muſt e'en
go to the Drink, and that we do with a wit-
neſs;
a Country-Life.
41
neſs ; for we make longer Pilgrimages to a
Tub of Ale, than a Jefuit would undergo to
make a Royal Convert. Our Director, in
theſe matters, is an honeſt Parſon of the
Neighbourhood, one that has nrade a ſhift to
get a red Noſe and a double Chiu in the Ser-
vice of the Church, tho’ he has but thirty
Pound a Year; and to keep his Palate Ortho-
dox, and ſtill in Tune, he carries the Tip of
a dry'd Neat's-Tongue always in his pocket.
He has ſome Acquaintance with Books and Cri-
tical Learning, and pretends to have diſcover'd
a falſe reading in Minutius Felix, which has
hitherto eſcap'd all the Germ.in Commentators.
'Tis that famous Paſſage, Non magna loquimur,
fed vivimus. He ſays, and proves it by the
Context, that it ought to be bibimus, and has
brought us all to be of his Opinion. In ſhort,
you may talk of your Secretaries of State, and
Miniſters as long as you pleaſe; but he's a Per-
ſon of the moſt univerfal Intelligence I had
ever the Honour to be acquainted with. No
ſooner does one Tub decline, but he has his
Eniffaries to tell him when another is fit to
bleed; and thus ten miles round him. Then
we faddle our Horſes, and make as much haſte
to examine the Veffel, as a Meſſenger does to
ſeize a Delinquent come from France.
Having thus tired you with our drinking, you
expect, I fuppoſe, to have an account of our
Women. I was five days in this Family, before
I ſaw a Female Face. Whatever the matter is,
they are as ſhy of being ſeen by a Londoner, as a
Dutch
42
A Deſcription of
a
Dutch Trooper, or as the modefteft Animal in
the Univerſe, is of meeting a French Dragooner
in Flanders. But t'other Morning, as I walk'd in
the Garden, I heard a ſqueaking Treble niurder
a Play-houſe Tune, at leaſt as old as herſelf :
however it wasnew here, and preſently after
a thing in a Commode look'd out of the Win-
dow, but as merrily as King Charles II. peeps
out of the Royal Oak in a Country Sign. The
Governeſs of the Caſtle at laſt believed we
were no Monſters, and reſolved' to give us the
Honour of her Company. I never faw fo di-
minutive a Creature in my days, when the
came into the Dining Room between her two
ſtrapping Daughters, that were at leaſt ſix Foot
high, we look'd, methinks, like a Pair of Snuf
fers between two Monument Candlefticks. Af-
ter the firſt Salutation was over, ſhe complain'd.
of the Taxes, and the Sins of the Age that occa-
ſion'd then ; but for all her San&tity, the old
Gentlewoman thought it no Sin, it ſeems to
paint, which ſhe had laid on as thick as an Au-
thor does Flattery in a Dedication. The Fucus
had beſtowd ſome red upon her Cheeks, by
the fame Token it made them guilty of a piece
of falfe Chronology. It made a refemblance of
Youth amongft Farrows and Wrinkles; fo I
could not help thinking upon ſome of Varelft's
Pieces, where you fee Winter and Summer
Flowers, that never grow together, join'd in one
Picture. But for all that, twas a very godly
diſcreet old Lady. She ask'd us a 10oo Queſtions
about the Funds and the Lotteries, and whether
The
Country-Life.
43
a
she might diſpoſe her Money fafely to the Go-
vernment? No doubt on't, Madani, the Confe-
derates and we are an hundred thouſand ſtrong
in Flanders; beſides Ruſſel has plaid the Devil
with them at Sea. The Meſfieurs, one of theſe
days, will come upon their Knees to ſupplicate for
a Peace ; and ſo we parted for that time.
A few days after, this old Lady delir'd Jack
Freeman and me to bear her and her Daughters
Company to a Wedding in the neighbouring
Village. At the very mention of a Wedding
we rejoic'd as much as the People in Cornwall do
at the News of a Wreck. So down he went to
the Farmer's Houſe, whofe Heir Apparent was
to be matrimonially bound to his good Beha-
viour. The Bride was a fat frelh.colour'd
Wench, well built and ruddy, and a great Pains-
a
taker (to-uſe Harry Higden's word) I dare war-
rant for her. The Husband Elect look'd fome-
what grum upon the matter, as knowing how
much Buſineſs he had upon his hands. To be
ſhort, we ſaw them conducted to the enchanted
Caſtle, where the facred . Magician performi’d
his Office. When he came to the terrible
Words you wot of, the Bridegroom look'd
pale as a Parſon that preaches a ſtollen Sermon
at a Viſitation, and the Bride, after the lauda-
bleCuſtom of her Sex dropt a few precious Tears,
and wip'd them off with her Handkerchief.
From thence we came back to the old Place of
Rendezvous, where one wou'd have thought the
whole Country was afſembled to behold the C-
remony; but 'tis an old commendable Cuſtom of
your
44
A Deſcription of
A
your Mothers, all England over, to bring their
Daughters to ſuch a sight, to prepare them
for what they muſt undergo another day; as
your Keepers call in their young Dogs at the
plucking down of a Stag, to enter then. All
Dinner time the Bridegroom and Bride ogled
one another like Adam and Eve in an old
Bible-Cut. When that was over, we renoved
into the Yard, where we ſhaked our Heels in
Freſco, and towards the clofe of the Afternoon
were interrupted by a parcel of Country Fel-
lows, with a Fiddle at the head of them, who
give us a ſpice of their Abilities under an Elm-
tree. When I firſt ſaw them move, they gave
me an Image of Lucretius's Atoms, and how
they jumbled and interfered in the Vacuum. I
could not forbear to niake another Reflexion
upon it, which ſhows upon what Chimerical
Grounds People build their Satisfaction. Th
Fellows, by the pure inſtinct of Nature, did
what Mr. Dogget has learnt to do with Pains
and long Imitation. Yet Mr. Dogget pleaſes, and
we ſhould hiſs theſe off the Stage for Scoundrels
and Blockheads.
A little before Supper we had a Ceflation of
Fiddles, and our old Lady, whoſe Piety and
Pthyfick made her equally troubleſome to her
ſelf and all the World beſides, began the Dir.
courſe with complaining of the ſtrange De-
baucheries of the Men ; and to ſhew her won-
derful Charity was pleas'd to affirm, that not
one Man in five hundred that had been bred in
London, but had paffed the Chirurgeon's hands,
two
a Country-Life.
45
two or three times before the Day of Marri-
age. Well, the Lord be praiſed, ſays a Gentle-
woman newly married, that fat next her, I
have no reaſon to complain of my Husband, he
is no Drunkard, make me thankful for't, nor
given to lewd Company, and, what few of my
Neighbours can fay, I am ſure he never knew
any Woman before my ſelf.-Sore on’t ! cries
.
Jack Freeman, riſing up and bowing to her.
For Heaven's fake, Madam, how was it poſſi-
ble? For Mofes, Madam --- Pugh! ſays' the,
what do ye tell me of Moſes?--With ſubmiſſion,
Madam, Moſes was an honeſt Gentleman, and
tho' he has ſet down certain Marks by which a
Man may know whether his Wife comes a
Maid to him Lord ! what ſtuff is here
Yet he no where inſtructs the Women to know
whether the Men have been treſpaſſing before.
No matter for that Did you believe him
then upon his own Word ?-
I wo'nt tell you
whether I did or no ? Or did you diſcover
him to be a Virgin, as we do a raw undifci-
plin'd Soldier ? ---How is that-Why, Madam,
by the awkward handling of his Arnis and mak-
ing his Attacks irregularly.---With that all the
Men fell a laughing, and the Women bluſh'd
behind their Fans. But this was not enough for
Jack Freeman, for with an Aſſurance equal to
that of a thorough-pac'd Evidence, tho'he ne-
ver ſaw this Woman's Husband in his Life be-
tore, yet as if he had been one of his old in-
timate Acquaintance, he thus went on-In-
deed, Madam, I can't tell what Stories Mr.N.
might
46
A Deſcription of
a
might tell you of his own Virtue, and all that,
but I knew him perfectly. well at the Univer-
fity. He and I, Madam, were of the fame
College; I believe we have drank this Room
full of bottled Ale together, and we took himi
for no Saint there. There went a fcurvy Res
port of him, but I won't juſtify it, becauſe
Fame's a conimon Harlot, and a Lyar ab initio.
But the Report was; remember, that he was
very great with his Bedmaker; no tawdry
young Creature, I muſt do- him that Juſtice
but a grave, ſtay'd diſcreet Perſon, a venerable
old Matron, upon my word, and fit to have
made a Wife for Burgerſdicius, ifever you heard
of him. She wore about her Girdle fome
threeſcore and ten Keys, which, when ſhe walk-
ed, made as delicious Mufick as a Carrier's
Bells. And, Madam, we had a Tradition a-
mongſt us, that he feduced this antient Perfon
with Ninepence in hard Money, and a pair of
blue Worſted Stockings, but God forbid that I
ſhould affirm this, yet, for all I know, it may
be true, for, Madani, all Fleſh is frail. Upon
this the Company laughed as heartily as be:
fore; the poor Gentlewoman looked blank in
the Mouth, but Supper came very feaſonably
to her Relief; fo to eating we fell, then the
Fiddlers ftruck up, and we danced till ten. At
which time the old People taking the Bride's
Cafe into Conſideration, whofe Concupiſcence
had ſtood upon tip-toes ever ſince the Parſon
had put her into the Church-pound, took her
up Stairs, and, as Mr. Otway fays, diſhed her
neatly
a Country-Life.
47
.
Beatly in Bed. What happened afterwards you
may ealily gueſs.
'Tis a Sign you don't know when you are
well, otherwiſe you would not long for furi-
oully to be here, only upon the ſcore of the
Country-Nymphs,, as you call them; for I
dare engage you'd ſoon wiſh yourfelf home a-
gain. A raw Wench here in the Country, not
to recount to you a thouſand other Iniperti-
gences, before you can bring her to bear, will
put you to the Devil and all of Expence in
Perjury: All which is faw'd in London. The
Women there, are better bred than to ask it of
you,or elſe know the World too well to depend
upon it. Produce but the half Piece, and they
trouble their Heads no farther about you. But
here you muſt run through as ſtrict a Scru.
tiny, as if you were to take a Poft of the
greateſt Truſt in the Government-And, my,
Dear, will you be everlaſtingly true to nie----
No doubt on't, Child. But when you have
ſerved, your Turn you will leave me for ſome-
body elſe--- But indeed I wont---It would break
my Heart if you fhould---Never fear it---Swear
then, my Dear,--. Why there is no occaſion---
But you ſhall 'fwear, dear Rogue, now your
Honey bids you, or ---So then you are obliged
to part with as many Oaths in a Moment, as
would handſomely maintain one of the King's
Majeſty's Garriſons for a twelvemonth. Now
this is very hard upon the Subject, eſpecially
the tender-conſcienced : Nay, to give you the
laft Proof of their ill-breeding, in the critical
Minute
48
A Deſcription of
Minute of Joy, when they ought to be all Rap-
ture and Contemplation, then, even
then,
when they ſhould he wrapt up in holy Silence,
they'll ask you a thouſand fooliſh Queſtions,
as mal a propos, as if one ſhould interrupt a Po
pilh Prieſt at the Elevation, and ask him what
à clock it is. You complain, that the Damſels
with you dreſs too fine, and that a pretty Wo-
man, ſet out in all the Advantages of Art, is
too luſcious a Dish to feed upon, and as bad as
Sack and Sugar. I can anſwer for no body's
Palate but my own; and cannot help ſaying
with the fat Knight in Harry the Fourth : If
Sack and Sugar is a Sin, the Lord have Mer.
cy on the wicked.
During my Stay in theſe Parts, I have recon-
ciled my ſelf to all the Sports of the Country,
but Fox-hunting. They have got me out twice
upon that account,but if ever they get me again,
I'll give them leave to hang me. For my part,
I believe fome Prieſt firſt invented it, becauſe
it requires ſo much implicit Faith and the Drud-
gery is ſo ſtupid. A Man muſt-venture his Neck
for a thing he never fees, and when he has
got it, 'tis not worth his while. And this Do-
&trine I daily Preach to the Gentlemen, but
they mind me no more than the Bankers in
Lombard-ſtreet did the zealous David Jones's de-
claiming againſt Uſury.
Thus I have plagu'd you with a tedious long
Letter, which I have not Patience enough to
look over again, and going to make Excuſes,
for it, I am interrupted by the following Con-
pliments
a Country-Life.
49
pliments ..... What a Plague are you doing all
this while by your ſelf ..... Here you have
ſcor'd you ten Glaſſes .... Come, or we ſhall
lay a heavier Fine upon you. ... Thus I am for-
ced to conclude with ſubſcribing my ſelf,
Your Humble Servant.
T.BROWN
Gemడుతుంటుందిరంలో
A Bantering Letter to a Vinter,
living near the Royal-Exchange,
under the borrow'd Name of a
Juſtice of Peace's Clerk, about a
Bastard-Child.
Written By Mr. BROW N.
Grays-Inn, Aug. 23. 1703.
SIR,
LT HO' I am wholly, a Stranger to
you, yet as alll of us ought to do
mutual good Offices to one ano-
SERB. ther; I was eaſily inclined to do
you the following Kindneſs, if you pleaſe to
think it one, for I can aſſure you I intended it
Vol. V.
D
as
50
A Bantering LETTER
as ſuch, and that without the leaſt mercenary
Proſpect of being rewarded for my Pains.
Know then that Mr. Daniel Arrorfmith the
Hofier, one of the Churchwardens belonging to
St. Andrew's Holborn, brought to my Maſter,
the Worſhipful Mr. Juſtice Ireton, at his Cham-
bers in Grays- Inn, about the Hours of eight
and nine this Morning, a young Woman,
whoſe Name is Judith Merryweather, living in
Leather-lane, at the Sign of the Hat and Feather.
The Beadles of the Pariſh had ſome time ago
obſerved to look as if ſhe was big-bellied,
and knowing her to have no Husband, acquaint-
ed the two Churchwardens below the Bars, (for
you muſt know, Sir, we have four in all be-
longing to our Pariſh) with the matter, who
repaired very early to her Lodgings this Morn-
ing, and upon the Pariſh Midwife's atteſting
her to be with Child they very ſeverely exa-
mind who was the true Father of the Child,
otherwiſe threatening to ſend her to Nero-Pric
fon, near Thington. At the firſt ſhe would
make no Confeffion, pretending ſhe had a
Husband at Sea in the Britannia, but being re-
quired by my Worſhipful Mafter, Juſtice Ireton,
to produce the Certificate of her Marriage, the
frankly own'd at laſt, that it was her Misfor-
tune, fome ſix Months ago, to be pick'd up by
you in High-Holborn, and that you carried
her to the Rummer-Tavern in Grays-Inn Paſſage,
where, in the Green Room up two Pair of Stairs,
you debauched her twice upon a Chair, by the
Came Token you gave her half a Crown in
hand,
to a VINTNER, &c.
51
hand, and promis'd her a pair of Blue Silk
Stockings; concluding, that ſhe never was con-
cern'd with any Man in the world but you,
and that ſhe was ready to confirm this upon
Oath. My Mafter hearing you were a young
Man, newly ſet up for your ſelf, and being
loth to expoſe your Reputation, the Soul and
Life of a Tradeſman, to the malicious Cenſure
of the World; he refuſed to admit the young
Wench to Swear againſt You, and particularly
fpoke to the two Churchwardens, Mr. Daniel
Arropoſmith Hoſier, and Mr. Jacob Thimbleſworth
Cheeſemonger, to endeavour to make up this
matter amicably with you, to conceal your
Name, and give you the meeting this Afternoon
at Six of the Clock, at the Three-Tun Tavern
near Holborn-Bars, and make as eaſy a Bargin
for you as he can poflible, in caſe they con-
jecturd you to be the right Father; which
will ſoon appear when the young Wench and
you are confronted together. Then, Sir, he
ordered me to write this Letter to you, to
acquaint you with the Time and Place of Meet-
ing; as alſo to be there my felf, and give him
an Account at Night of all Particulars. So, Sir,
if you pleafe to enquire for Number Six, at the
aforefaid Tavern, you will certainly find us
there attending your coming, in hopes thereof
you'll make a ſhort end of this ſcurvy Buſineſs.
I remain, tho’unknown,
Tours to Command,
-
PETER AYLOFF.
D2
P. S.
52
A Letter to a Gentleman
P. S. The young Woman is about Sixteen,
freſh-colour'd, but a little frickled, and red
hair'd. Her Mother keeps an Apple-ſtall.
లేలేలేలేతikitikikitutet
A Letter to a Gentleman of Doctors-
Commons.
O mihi poft nullos.
Dear Jack!
HO' at this preſent Juncture, ſuperos
conſcia fidere teftor, I am in no
T
very good condition to write Let-
ters, Seceſum ſcribentis & otia
puærunt, becauſe my Head akes,
acceſſit fervor capiti, and with laſt Night's
drinking my Hand trenibles, quid non ebrietas
deſignat; yet I cannot forbear, tenet inſanabile
multos, to ſend you an account of our meeting
at the Sun, forfan ( hæc olim meminiſe juvabit,
and what happened upon it, Exitus acta probat;
but I'll endeavour to be as brief as I can, ſumma
Sequar feftigia rerum, for I hate Prolixity and,
all its Works.
You muſt know then, that a parcel of young
Fellows of us, in curta curanda plus æquo, jolly
toping Companions, Sponſi Peneloper, nebulones,
who, whene'er we are at a Tavern, never
cry
.
of Doctors-Commonis. 53
cry to go home, fruges conſumere nati, met at
the Sun to drink ſome Tokens ſent out of the
Country, Orus! quando ego te afpiciam? At
firſt we were exceeding chearful and merry,
nunc te Bacche canam, the Glaſſes trolled about
like lightning, nec mora nec repuies, we drank
Proſperity to old England, dulce á decorum eft
pro Patria, nor was the beſt in Chriſtendom
forgot, Spelunca alta fuit, vaſtoq; immanis hiatu.
So far then every thing went well, bac Arethuſa
tenus, the Candles burnt clear and bright,
noctem Flammis funzlia vincunt, the Tobacco
ſmoak'd agreeably, V civitur ater odor te&tis, but
you know the old ſaying, Pleaſure has a Sting
in its Tail, nocet empta dolore voluptas, People
feldom know when to give off, O quantum in
rebus inane, for mark what follow'd, felix quem
faciunt, we had the Devil and all to do before
we parted, Alecto Ayguis caput extulit oris, no-
thing but Bloodſhed and Deſolation, belle horrida
bella, and a Woman occaſioned it all, dux famina
facti. One in the Company it ſeems was deep-
ly in Love, omnia vincit amor, ſo he began his
Miſtreſs's Health in a Bumper, Nevia ſex Cyatis,
fwearing ſhe was an Angel, a Goddeſs, and I
know not what, trahit ſua quemq, voluptas; but
his next Neighbour, like a fool, refuſed to pledge
hin, quis niſi mentis inops oblatum refpuit ?
Upon which Rogue and Raſcal ſtrait enſued, nulli
tacuiffe nocet, one ill word begot another, verba
accufanda genitivum regunt, after which Bottles
and Candleſticks flew like hail, jamq; faces
ſaxa 'volant, and ſome undermining Moles
D 3
in
54 A Letter to a Gentleman
a
in the Company, that no body could tell what
to make of, incerti generis funt talpa, blew up
the Coals to make more Miſchief, Spargere voces
in vulgam ambiguas, till at laſt all of us were
hooked into the quarrel, o miſeri, quæ tanta
inſania, cives! 'Twas to no purpoſe to preach.
up Peace and Moderation, in campo fi quis afellum,
for the Wine was in and the Wit was out, faa
cundi calices quem non fecere! One with his
Mazzard demoliſhed, quantum mutatus ab illo
Hetire, fell down on the Floor, dat gemitum
tellus, and lay as flat as a Flounder, procumbit
bumi bos; t'other with his Noſe diſmounted, quis
cladem illius noétis, fell a ſwearing like a Dra-
gong tercentem tonat ore Deos, and fung the
Monteith at his oppoſite, furor arma miniftrat.
A third had his Eyes clos'd up, monſtrum hora
rendum, informe, ingens. A fourth his lacd
Cravat and Perriwig torn to pieces, quis funera
fando explicet ? In ſhort, the Diſtraction was
univerſal, pefte vacat pars nulla, it reigned from
Dan to Berſheba, ab ovo ufq; ad mala, for by
this time all of us were at pellmel , legitq;
virum vir, but ſuch a noiſe, and ſuch a confú-
fion, good Lord! ferit aurea fidera clamor. I
warrant you there was work enough for the
Chirurgeons, multa vi vulnera miſcent, but its
an ill wind, you'll ſay, that blows no body no
good, aliquiſq; malo fuit uſus in illo. At laft
the nian of the Houſe appeard, vir gregis ipfe
caper, with a Conſtable and a Mob of Watch-
men at his Heels, una euruſq; notufq; ruunt,
commanding us in the King's Name, to keep the
Peace,
a
of Doctors-Commons. 55
Peace, tollite barbarum clamorem, and not to fight
like Beaſts or Dutchmen over our Drink, pugnare
Thracum eft; what, fays he, do you think there
;
are no Magiſtrates in the Neighbourhood, Cre-
ditis avectos Danaos, or do you know my Lord
Mayor and the City no better, fic notus Vlydes?
Come pack up your Awls, and be gone, ille re-
git dictis animos, or I ſhall ſend you all to the
Counter, horrifuno ſtridentes cardine porta. Up-
on this the Mutiny was ſoon quafhd, omnis
pe-
L.zgi cecidit fragor; we had no mind to be longer
at Logger-heads, non ea vis animo; a Priſon was
no ſuch deſireable place, Centauri in forbius fta-
blunt, ſo the Reckoning was called for and paid,
de moribus ultima fiet quæftio, every one went
towards his reſpective home; fedes quiſque ſuas ;
fome in Coaches, and ſome on Foot, ſcinditur
incertum ftudia in contria vulgus. But ſee the
uncertainty of humane Affairs, omnia funt ho-
minum, we were ſtopt by the Monarch of the
Night at Ludgate, apparent nova Monftra. Crys
he, whence cone ye? fed vos qui tandem, or
whether are you going? Quove tenetis iter.
Shall I ſend one of my Myrniidons to ſee you
home? auxilio tutos dimitiam, or will you reign
with me in this Elbow-Chair of State, vultis his
mecum pariter conſidere regnis. By my Faith my
Throne and all is at your ſervice, Orbem quam
ftatuo veftra eft. No, ſaid Ned Townly, I beg
your excuſe, haud equidem tali me dignor honore:
I love you, Gentlenaen-Conſtables, with all
my heart, Odi profanum vulgus arceo, but
I have a moroſe thing called a Father at home,
2
D4
eft
56
A Letter to a Gentleman, &c.
eft mihi namq; domi Pater, beſides a Mother-in-
law as miſchievous as a fury, Hercanæq; admo-
runt ubera Tygres; So, if you pleaſe, we'll even
take our leaves of one another, worthy Sir,
Satis eft quod ſufficit, and thus thro' ſo many noc-
turnal Principalities and Powers, per tot diſcri-
mina rerum, we at laſt got ſafe to the Commons,
tendimus in Latium.
Had I the Lungs of a Hundred Lawyers, non
mibi fi centum linguæ fint, yet were I not able
to tell you all my Adventures, omnes ſcelerum
compendere formas. But to conclude, this was
the iſſue of this tragical Night, hæc finis Priami
fatorum; but who the plague could have forſeen
it, quid fit futurum er as fuge quærere: However,
I Mall have more Wit for the future, piſcator
Sizpit ictus, ſo begging your pardon for this te
dious Letter, veniam petimus dabimuſq; vifim,
I promiſe you Ne quid nemis Thall hereafter bé
the word, with
Your moſt humble,
T. B.
A Letter
57
A Letter to a Toung LADY.
1
$
1
ܕ
Have Languiſhed a whole tedious
Week, which, in the computation of
us Lovers, is an Age at leaſt, under the
fevereſt Pains that can be imagined; and
yet, Madam, you have not vouchſafed to ex-
preſs the leaſt compaſſion for my Sufferings,
tho' you are the cruel Occaſion of them. Why
Thould Beauty affect arbitrary Sway, and take
Delight in the Ruin of its moſt faithful Adorers?
Or why ſhould fo paflionate a Heart as mine
is, that would gladly facrifice the whole Uni-
verſe to purchaſe yours, be rewarded only with
Scorn and Contempt? Oh let me conjure you
by thoſe dear killing Eyes, that have robbed
me of my Repoſe, to let me know my Crime,
and wherein I have offended you, that the
whole Services of my Life may atone for my
Tranſgreſſion: If you are reſolved to niake nie
your Viêtim, do but let me know ſo niuch,
and I'll die with the Eagerneſs and Reſignation
of a Martyr: For, alas! my Deſpair at pre-
fent has ſo effectually mortify'd me, that ſhould
you continue to be fevere, Death will be a wel-
come Deliverer to the moſt unfortunate,
1
T. Bromon.
DS
HENRI.
58
HENRICUS HAMMONDUS.
D cujus nomen afurgit,
A
Quicqid eft gentis literare,
(Dignum Nomen,
Quod Auro, non Atramento,
Nec in Marmore
perituro, fed Adamante potins
Exaretur)
Maſageres celebirimus, vir plane fummus,
Theologus omnium conſummatiſſimus,
Erudita Pietatis decus fimul a exemplar ;
Sacri Codicis interpres
Facili omnium eculatifſimus,
Errorum Malleus
Poft homines naros feliciſſimus,
Veritatis Hyperafpittei
Supra quam dici poteft Nervoſus,
In cujus fcriptis
Eleceſcunt
Ingenii Gravitas acumen,
Judicii Sublimitas a 'Axgißerd,
Sententiarum "Όγκος & Δεινότης,
Dacendi Methodus utiliſſima,
Nufquam dormitans Diligentia
Hamniondus (inquam) • Tavu,
In ipſa mortis Vicinia poſitus,
Immortalitati quaſi contiguus,
Exuvias
An r
Epitaph on Algernon Sidney.
59.
Exuvias Mortis venerandas
(Præter quas nihil mortale babuir)
Sub obſcuro hoc Marmore
'Latere voluit,
VII. Cd. Maias,
Am. Ata.LY.
MDCLX.
JAJAJA
来来来​找​余光
​An Epitaph on Algernon Sidney,
1683.
Lgernon Sidney fills this Tomb,
An Atheiſt, by diſclaiming Rome;
A
A Rebel bold, for ſtriving ſtill
B! To keep the Laws above the Will,
And hind’ring thoſe wou'd tread 'em down,
To leave no Limits to a Crown:
Crimes, damn'd by Church and Government,
But, Oh! where muſt his Soul be ſent ?
Of Heav'n it ever muſt deſpair,
• If that the Pope be Turn-Key there:)
And Hell it ne'er can entertain,
For there is all tyrannick Reign ;
And Purgatory's ſuch Pretence,
It ne'er receiv'd a Man of Senſe :
Where goes it then ? Why, where it ought to
(goj
Where neither Pope, nor Devil, have to do.
An
60
An Epitaph on TRUE, Queen
MARY'S DOG.
I
F Wit, or Honeſty, could fave
Our mould'ring Afhes from the
(Grave;
This Stone had yet remaind un-
(mark’d,
I ſtill writ Profe, and True ſtill bark'd :
But envious Fate has claim'd its Due,
Here lies the mortal part of True :
His deathleſs Virtues muſt ſurvive,
To better us that are alive.
}
His Prudence, and his Wit, were ſeen
In that, from Mary's Grace and Mien,
He ownd the Pow'r, and lov'd the Queen :
By long Obedience he confeſsid,
That ſerving her was to be bleſs'd :
Ye Murniurers, let True evince
That Men are Beafts, and Dogs have Senſe.
His Faith and Truth all Whitehall knows,
He ne'er could fawn, or flatter thoſe
Whom he believ'd were Mary's Foes :
Ne'er ſculk'd from whence his Sovereign led
(him,
Nor ſnarld againſt the Hand that fed him:
Read
}
An Epitaph on a Stumbling- Horfe. 6i
Read this, you Stateſmen now in Favour,
And mend your own, by True's Behaviour.
తలవంతలలతలతలతలతలతతతతలు తలపోతలత
An Epitaph on a Stumbling-Horſe.
MASERE lies the Horfe beneath this
H
(Stone,
Who living, oft has lain on one:
VO
A noble Steed, who, as he went,
Proclaim'd ſtill his high Deſcent:
A proudly headed Nag he was,
And hence it often came to paſs ;
Tho' he his Feet nought valued,
He ſtill ſtood much upon his Head.
He was no War-Horſe, yet he knew
The Art to ſquat and lie perdu ;
Yea, many a Horſe, long-traind in Wars,
Had never half ſo many Scars :
There's only this ſmall Diff'rence in't,
Theirs were Steel Wounds, but his of Flint.
He was no Hunter, nor did care
To follow Chace of Fox or Hare
3
Yet had this Property of Hound,
He ſtill was ſmelling on the Ground.
And tho' Dame Nature did not frame
Him for a Finder of the Game ;
Yet were it loft, none certainly
Wou'd fooner ſtumble on't than he.
He
62 An Epitaph on a Stumbling-Horfe.
He was no Racer, as fome fay,
Tho'fone conclude the other way;
And ſay, for Swiftneſs, he might run
Againſt the Horſes of the Sun :
For tho full fwiſt Don Phabus be,
This wou'd be ſooner down than he :
For his Opinion Critick-Wit,
Does vary much in gueſfing it :
Some ſay he was conformiſt bred,
He bow'd fo low ; but ſome this Steed
Think may for Nonconformiſt
go,
At every thing he ſtumbles fo.
Some think him Presbyter, 'cauſe he
Brings Rider down to Purity.
But ſome ſay no, for, by this knock,
He ſtill throws Jocky from his Back.
Some for Rebaptiſt him befpatter,
For dipping Rider oft in Water;
But all no Quaker him conclude,
Becauſe with Knee Reſpect he ſhewed:
Some think him Papift, 'cauſe fo prone
He was to worſhipping of Stone:
Some think again,
that Tripping he
Confutes Infallibility.
But moſt allow him (which is worſe)
No more Religion than a Horſe:
Well, now he's dead, nor Wonder is't,
For Mother-Earth long fince he kiſt;
And what it was, full well did know,
To turn his Heels up long ago.
If any to enquire fhall pleaſe
What caus’d his Death, 'twas a Difeafe,
/
Calla
ORACULUM.
63
Calld Epilepſe by learned Leech,
But Falling-Sickneſs in plain Speech.
And to confirm it for a Truth,
He often foamed at the Mouth
And our good Coroner finds he hath,
By his own ſtumbling, caus'd his Death.
In King's Highway, pray let him reſt,
With this Inſcription on his Breaſt :
Here lies the Horſe, that fell and roſe before,
But now (the Learned lay)'muſt riſe no more.
ORACULUM.
Xulta, Germania !
E
Venit enim Tempus,
Quo
Nomen Leopoldus tranfit in omen,
Pello duos :
Capilales fcilicet Germaniæ Hoftes;
Pulſum jam alterum vidimus,
Alterum brevi pellendum fperamus,
Sultanum Lodovicum,
Vtrumque magnum ;
Altorum quondam Orbis Terrorem nunc Ludibrium.
Turcia ſub illo, a tot ſæculis,
Gallia fub hoc, a paucis luftris,
Invictam fe jačtitavit :
Alterum vinci porte; alter docuit.
Uterque
64
ORACULUM.
Uterque cum Gernianis ferit
Inducias vigenti Annorum,
Sed fregit ;
Alter ſub Finem, fúb Initium alter :
Pari uterque Uſus pretextu,
Ille, ut Comitem de Tekely,
Hic, ut Principem de Furſtemberg,
Firmaret.
Tekely Chriftanus contra Chriftianos,
Farftemberg Germanus contra Germanos:
Vterque duxit Hoftes,
Sed pari ut ſperamus ſucceſu.
Nec omine caret
Ludovicus nomine Decimus quartus :
Interroganti eum,
Quid es? Sum Turca :
Nomen Omen refere.
Quis diffidebitær ergo,
Quod Ludovicus Turca
Parem cum Turca experturus fit fortunam?
Tranfiit eam Nox,
Qua
No&turnum Sidus o Animal,
Luna, Gallus, regnant :
Exortus eft dies;
Nam Luna per folem cepit obſcurari :
Et cum Aquila inter Solis verſetær radios,
Defiit Gallicinium,
Nec Gallus amplius cant abit.
Exulta, Germania !
Venit enim Tempus,
Quo
LV Do-
The Epſom Duel, 1689.
65
LVDOVICVs MagnVs breVI flet parV VS,
Nam Litera numerales dant numerum
MDCLXXXVIII.
Oooo:
The Epſom Duel, 1689.
Sing of a Duel in Epſom befel,
'Twixt fa-ſo-la Durfey, and ſo-la-mi
I
( Bell :
But why do I mention the ſcrib-
(bling Brother?
For naming the one, you may guels at the other.
Betwixt then there happen'd a horrible Clut-
ter
Bell ſet up the loud Pipes, and Durfey did ſplutter.
Draw, Belly wer't thou Dragon, I'll ſpoil thy
(soft Note,
Thy ſqueaking, ſaid t'other, for I'll cut thy
(Throat.
With a Scratch on the Finger the Duel's dif-
(patch'd,
Thy Clineas (Oh Sidney!) was never ſo natch'd.
Prophecies
66
Prophecies out of Merlin's Carmen,
1690.
Rthuras veniet Clypeo ceu nomen ab Aureo
Sive a Divitiis ne querit nominis um.
(bram
Sed verice certe : Majoribus Integer.
(auſis.
Æolios certo fibi junget ſedere fratres,
Non unda, non ſaxa illum, non impius Enſis,
Impediunt currentem, & Mollia juſa ferentem
Diis Charum, facrumq; caput nec fulmina tangent,
Axem humeris torquea, fugii inde volubile Ferrum,
Abfolvitque Deos tantum peccare timentes
Alias ver juntoſ que dabit ; ſed proxima Mefis
Lilia, fic Domit as lati lætabitur Orbis.
Interea Diros fremitus Terraque Marique,
Delphinogeum tunc circumludete Monſtrum,
Per Regis Cameras, cali laquearibus aptas
Multaqe tunc infunda videbitis. His dare finem
Ferridus Ifiacis curret Neptunus ab Undis,
Nec feret hoc Dux Pennigerum.
Sure as ye live, who Arthur's Fate deplore,
Heav'n for you has an Arthur yet in ſtore ;
Behold his Deeds, and thence the Man proclaim,
Tho'a gilt Helm on Riches ſtanıp his Name.
ܪ
From
Prophecy out of Merlin's Carmen, 1690. 69
From Æolus he calls a ready Wind,
And carries every Element his Friend,
Heaven's Darling! Him no Inſtrument of War
May touch, nor boldeſt Thunder ſinge his Hair.
O Æolus ! Oye Gods! The Ball is hurl'd,
That Shoulder hurt, where will you fix the
(World.
He, Britain's Angel, in one Moon ſhall mow
The Flags and Ruſhes which in Bogland grow,
The Lillies, a white Harveſt, next ſhall crown
His facred Head, and all the World's his own
Againſt God's Wind, tho' Hell may drive the
(Tide
In the King's Chambers, tho'a Dolphin ride ;
Yet ſure that Rout ſhall the proud Dragon rue,
St. Michael comes with all his winged Crew;
And Neptune will the Brutes no longer bear,
Thunder begins, and Wonder ends the War.
The
68
AAAPZAZAAA
The Cavalcade, and disbanding the
Royal Regiment ; a Ballard
for Jo. Haynes, 1690.
I.
L L you that have. Proteſt ant Ears
(to hear,
Each of you prepare to ſhed a falt
(Tear;
For know that our Monarch in-
(tends to disband
The only brave Heroes could conquer Ireland.
II.
The feirce Royal Regiment, as brave Men and
(willing,
As Dutchmen, or Danes, or thoſe Inneskilling,
Muſt now be cafhier'd without any Rewards,
Who once did pretend to precede the King's
(Guards.
III.
O had you but ſeen them march with that De-
(corum,
That no Roman Triumph cou'd e'er go before
(them ;
Some
URI
Vol;V
Royal Cavalcade,
270,
ONE
OF
ch
The Cavalcade, &c.
69
Some ſmoaking, ſome whiſtling, all thinking no
(harm,
Like Yorkſhire Attornies coming up to a Term.
IV.
On Long-Tails,' on Bob-Tails, on Trotters, on
(Pacers,
On Pads, Hawkers, Hunters, on Higlers, or Ra-
(cers;
You'd ha' ſworn Knights, Squires, Prigs, Cuca
(kolds and Panders,
Appear'd all like ſo many Great Alexanders.
V.
Theſe Heroes, who thorow all Dangers durft go,
Moſt bravely deſpiſing Blood, Battel, and Foe,
Were mounted on Steeds the laſt Lord Mayor's
(Day;
From Turkey, Spain, Barbary, Coach, Cart, and
(Dray.
VI.
'Twas on that very day theirProweſs was ſhown,
For guarding the King thro' the Fire-works
(o'th'Town ;
The Sparks were unhorſt, and their lac'd Coats
(were ſpoild,
Yet theſe fear'd no Squibs of Man, Woman, or
(Child.
VII.
The Cornet, whoſe Noſe tho’ it ſpoke him no
Roman,
Was mounted that Day on a Horſe feared no
Man
;
Believe
70
The Cavalcade, &c.
Believe me, for all o'er his Trappings fo fump-
(tuous,
He ty'd Squibs and Crackers, 'twas mighty pre-
(ſumptuous.
VIII.
But note his Deſign, 'twas worth your admiring,
'Twas to let the Queen fee how his Horſe
(would ſtand firing;
Not wiſely conſidering what'twas to be married,
For at firing the Squibs his own Miſtreſs miſs
(carried.
IX.
Th’Anabaptiſt,who ſquirts his Zeal into his Maid,
In his Jackboots, both Night and Day, preach'd,
(lept, and pray’d;
For jingling his Spurs chim’d them all in as well
To Sermon, or Prayers, as any Sans-Bell.
X.
The Lieutenant-Colonel being thrown by his
(Jennet,
His Son-in-law thinking ſome Treachery in it,
Did tender him the Oaths, which the Horſe
(took they ſay,
But ſwore by the Lord they went down like
(chopp'd Hay.
XI.
He the Beaſt of an Iriſh Papiſt did buy,
So doubting his Courage and his Loyalty,
Taught him to eat with his Oates Gunpowdero,
And prance to the Tune of old Lilly-Burlero.
XII.
The Cavalcade, &c.
71
XII.
A noble ſtout Scrivener, who now ſhall be
(nameleſs,
That in time of Action he might be found blame.
(leſs;
A War-Horſe of Timber from a Dutch Carver
(buys,
To learn with more Safety the Horſe-Exerciſe.
XII.
With one Eye one's Honour, the other one'sGain,
He fixes a Desk on Bucephalus? Main ;
That ſo by that means he his Palfry beftriding,
Might practiſeatonçe both his writing and riding.
XIV.
But o'the fad News that our Heroes confounds,
To Ireland their own like the laſt Trumpet
(ſounds;
The King has invited Lord Mayor and Shreive
(Hublin,
To dine upon Midſummer-Day with him in
(Dublin.
Xy.
Good Lord ! how this News fets the Cham-
(pions a trembling,
And now quite forgetting their wonted diffem-
(bling,
Can think them of nothing but Suits and Peti-
(tions,
Of humble Addreſſes, of Terms and Conditions.
хүІ.
1
72
The Cavalcade, &c.
a
XVI.
O who'll march for me? now ſpeak any that
(dare,
A Horſe and a hundred Pounds for him that's
(fair;
Dear Courtier excuſe me from Teagueland and
(Slaughter,
And take, which you pleaſe, my Wife or my
(Daughter.
XV!I.
Some feignd to be lame,ſome feign'd to be clapt,
At laſt finding they themſelves had thus trapt,
Unanimouſly they to the King all addreſt,
And told the bare Truth, 'twas all but a Jeft.
XVIII.
A Jeſt! quoth the King, and with that the King
(ſmild,
It ne'er fhall be ſaid fuch a Jeſt ſhall be ſpoild;
Therefore,now I break you, in Peace all depart,
For 'twas more your Goodneſs than nay Deſert.
XIX.
Thus happily freed from the dreadful Vexation,
Of being Defenders of this or that Nation,
They kiſs'd Royal Fiſt, were drunk all for Joy,
Then broke all their Swords, and cry'd, Vive le
(Roy.
Ballad
73
A BALLAD on the Times,
1696.
1.
Ood People, what will you of all be
(bereft?
G Will you never learn Wit while a
(Penny is left?
We are all, like the Dog in the Fa-
(ble, betray'd,
To let go the Subſtance, and ſnap at the Shade :
Our fpecious Pretences,
And foreign Expences,
To war for Religion, will waſt all our Chink;
It's clipt, and it's ſnipt,
It's lent, and it's ſpent,
Till 'tis gone, till 'tis gone to the Devil,I think.
II.
We pay for our New-born, and we pay for our
(Dead;
We pay if ware Single, we pay if we Wed :
Which ſhews, that our merciful Senate don't fail
To begin at the Head, and tax down to the Tail.
We pay through the Noſe,
For ſubjecting of Foes ;
But, for all our Expences,get nothing but Blows:
Vol. V.
E
Abroad
94
A Ballad on the Times, 1696.
Abroad w'are defeated,
At Home we are cheated ;
And the end on't, the end on't, the Lord above
(knows.
III.
we have parted with all our old Money,to ſhew
How we fooliſhly hope for a Plenty of New;
Bat might have remember'd, when't came to
(the Puſh,
That a Bird in the Hand, is worth two in the
(Buſh;
We now, like poor Wretches,
Are kept under Hatches,
At Rack and at Mangerlike Beaſts in the Ark;
Since our Burgeſſes and Knights
Make us pay for new Lights,
Why ſhou'd we, why ſhou'd we be kept in the
(Dark ?
LOVE-
75
Parnas
Love-LETTERS Written to Ma-
dam MAINTENON, Stollen out
of her Cloſet by one of her Ser-
vants.
Tranſlated by Mr. Tho. BROWN.
A
The Marquis de Chevereuſe's Love Letter.
Madam,
FTER having oftentimes aſſured
you in Converſation, that I love
you more than my felf, I take the
Liberty to write to you, that I
may give you fuller Evidences of
my Sincerity, and at the ſame time to make
this Proteſtation before you, that notwith-
ſtanding all your Indifference, I ſhall ever per-
fevere to adore you. I am fenfibly afflicted
that I had not the Honour to take my leave
of you before my Departure: I have fought
every occafion with the utmoſt Diligence; but
E 22
you,
76
LOVE-LETTERS,
you, my cruel Fair one, think that I am not
kufficiently puniſh'd for my Tranſgreſſions, ei-
ther by your Rigor, or my own Deſpair. You
have hitherto induſtriouſly avoided my Com-
pany, becauſe you very well foreſaw, that one
Moment of your charming Converſation would
ſweeten and lenify all that Chagrin which your
Abſence had created. Let me perſuade you, ,
Madam, to quit all thoſe Cruelties that are ſó
diſagreeable, and contrary to the Faireſt Sex;
conſider thé Violence of my Paſſion, and by
an act of Generoſity, which is ſo peculiar to
your Nature, return one Heart for another;
mine is altogether yours, it will ſuffer no o
ther Image to be impreſt upon it, but that of
your charming Perſon, nor will it be ever fe-
parated from you. Give me therefore ſome
ſmall roon in yours, 'tis the only thing in the
World which I beg of you, and for the attain-
ing of it, I would willingly abandon ny For-
tune and my Dignity. Let me then conjure
'you, Madam, to comply with my Paſſion, and
make your félf abſolute Miſtreſs, not only of
my Heart, but alſo of every thing that I poffefs.
The Bearer hereof will bring me your Anſwer;
I beſeech you that you'll no more deny me this
Favour, than any thing elſe that I have requeſt.
ed of you; without which you'll ſeduce, to the
Extremity of Deſpair, the Perſon that preſerves
his Life upon no other ſcore than to love, nor
his Fortunes, than to ſerve you.
De Cheveruſe.
Tbe
to Madain MAINTENON.
77
De
The Marquiſs of Cheveruſe to Ma-
dam Maintenon.
1
23SIS I find decreed, Madam, and
you have reſolved my Death; if
that is your deſign, you'll have
your ſatisfaction upon me in a few
VIVE
Days; for ſince I have been ablent
;
from you, I have not been able to procure one
moment's releaſe fron ny Torments. How-
ever, if you'll be pleaſed to alleviate my pains
with one word from your adorable Hand, I
İhall have the Conſolation to be remembered
by you. Do it then, I beſeech you, and if you
disdain to anſwer my Prore, at leaſt anſwer
the Verſes, which are ſent you by the moſt
Paſſionate and sincere of Lovers,
De Cheveruſe,
E 3
то
78
LOVE-LETTERS,
To my Adorable GUILLE-
METTE.
By the Same.
1.
AIR Goddeſs! whoſe Victorious Charms
2013 Have made a Conqueſt o'er my Heart;
When will you fill my long-expecting
(Arms,
And bid my cruel Fears depart.
II.
Since envious Fate your Abſence has procurd,
No peaceful reſt has crown'd the Night.
- The Day has ſeen no kind delight,
Ten thouſand Martyrdoms I have endur'd.
IU.
Come make a Victim of your Pride,
Cure my Deſpair, and eaſe my Pain,
Lay unbecoming Cruelty afide,
And to mild Pity facrifice Diſdain.
IV.
to Madam MAINTENON.
79
IV.
Or if my Fate you have decreed,
And poor unhappy I muſt bleed,
In a pathetick Tone pronounce my Death:
And I with freedom will reſign niy Breath.
DUNIDOS.US.Besidues. Voucey.es
Love-Verſes, Spoken to Adoralle
Guillemette : By the Marquiſs
of Cheveruſe, after his recovery
from a Fainting Fit.
I.
ELL now, imperious Fair, I find
You have your Lover's Death deſign'd:
Since you that could have eas'd my
(wretched State,
Have added to my Cares, and urg'd my coming
(Fate.
II.
Go take a Kiſs, Love whiſpers in my Ear,
But Love, alas! gives place to Fear;
Aweful reſpect diſarms my Hands,
And to my growing Paſſion gives Commands.
ands.
E 4
III. Ah!
62
LOVE-L ETTERS,
III.
Ah! nuſt your wounded Lover die ?
And ſee his Balm, and ſee his Cure fo nigh:
Or Thall he boldly ſeize a Kiſs?
A Prelude to a greater Bliſs.
IV.
No, he'll a thouſand Deaths endure,
And all Reverſes of his Fate attend,
E’er he'll by Sacrilege attempt his Cure,
And his dear Guillemette offend.
ఆలింతలత.లతలతతలు తలల తలలతలతతుతం
To the ſame; delivered by a Peaſant.
Madam,
Am perfwaded, that if I did not
live entirely for you, I had not been
,
I
able, by this tine, ſo much as to lift
up my Eyes to ſee you without
dying. If I could have had the ho-
nour to take my leave of you, and know your
Sentiments, I had received ſufficient Confolati-
on. Do me then the Favour, that I may en-
joy one minute's Converſation with you, in
ſome place or other : Alas!" who could have
believed that we ſhould be fo cruelly feparated,
when we were juſt upon the point of meet-
ing? However, it does not ſignify much, and
I have that favourable Opinion of your Charity,
that
to Madam MAINTENON. 81
that it will repair the Loſs we have mutually
ſuſtained. Adieu, my Dear, let me know how
matters go with you. You may confide en-
tirely in the Bearer, for he's truſty and faithful.
be
Her Anſwer to the Marquiſs, Nipt
into the Peaſant's Pocket.
SIR,
tratate LTHO I have not ſeen you ſince
A
my Departure from yet I have
not ſuffered that Pallion to be ex.
1997 tinguiſhed, which you have kindled
in my Heart ; for a Proof of this let me find
а
you to-morrow about four a Clock diſguiſed in
à Female-Habit, on the fide of the Wood that
joins the High-way, there I shall have the
Honour to ſee you.
E 5
Ten
82
LOVE-LETTERS
లేలే లోకంtesttickette
北
​Ten Years after she was the Mar-
quiſs's Miſtreſs, be propoſed ber
in Marriage to a Judge of the
Finances. The young Judge's
.
Letter to the Marquils, againſt
entering upon a ſecond Marriage.
SIR,
Fter having made abundance of Re-
flections upon the Inconvenience
and Misfortunes that Marriage ge-
nerally carries along with it, I have
taken up a Reſolution not to ven-
ture niy, felf the ſecond time on that outra-
geous Sea; but to paſs the remainder of my
Life in Security in the Harbour : The moſt
convincing Arguments that ſerved to determine
my Opinion in this Cafe, were fent me in a
Letter by a Poet, a Friend of mine : I have
tranſcribed a Copy of them for you, that you
may ſee the Advice which he gives me, and
with what an invincible Averſion he declaims
againſt Matrimony. In the mean time I ſhall
never ceaſe to make you all the Acknowledg.
ments in the World for your infinite Favours,
and I am heartily diſpleaſed with my felf, that
I cannot
to Madam MAINTENON.
83
I cannot force my Inclination ſo far, as to offer
my Vows to that charming Perſon you deſigned
for me. You may reaſonably believe, that
Providence never deſigned me for ſo great a
Bleſſing ; however, I ſhall always referve that
Honour of writing my ſelf,
Yours.
POSTSCRIPT
The Verfés fent in the ſame Letter..
THE Husband's the Pilot, the Wife is the
,
(Ocean,
He always in Danger, ſhe always in Motion :
And he that in Wedlock twice hazards his Car-
(cake,
Twice ventures a drowning; and, faith, that's
(an hard Caſe :
Even at our Weapons the Femalè defeat us,
And Death, only Death, can ſign our Quietus.
Not to tell you ſad Stories of Liberty loſt,
How our Joys are all pallid, and. our Pleaſures
(all croft,
This Pagan Confinement, this damnable Station,
Suits no Order,nor Age,nor Degree in the Nation.
The Levite it keeps from Parochial Duty,
For he can at once mind Religion and Beauty ?
The Rich it alarms with Expences and Trouble,
And a poor Beaſt, you know, will fcarce carry,
Glouble.
'Twas invented, they ſay to keep us from falling,
Oh the Virtue and Grace of a ſhrillCatterwauling!
But
84 LOVE-LETTERS
But it pales in your Game. Ay, but how do
you know, Sir,
How often your Neighbour breaks up the En-
(cloſure.
For this is the principal Comfort of Marriage,
You must eat, tho' a hundred has ſpit in your
(Porridge.
True * Woman ne'er minds a Sermon, or Lecture,
Her Glaſs is her Guide, and her Ghoſtly Die
(rector ;
Then me primes her gay Looks with an early Dea
(votion,
There fhe paints, and ſhe patches, and Audies-each
(Motion;
Not to pleaſe the dull Sight of her Conjugal Satyr,
But charm and confound every gaping Spectator.
Ifat Night you're unactive and fail of performing,
Enter Thunder, and Lightning, and Bloodſhed
(next Morning
Cries the Bone of your Side, Thanks dear Mr.
(Horner,
This comes of your ſinning with Crape in a
(Corner.
Then to make up the Breach, all your Might
(you muſt rally,
And labour, and ſweat, like a Slave at the Gally.
But ſtill you muſt charge, Oh bleſſed Condition!
Tho'you know to your Coſt, you've no more
(Animunition.
'Tillat laft, my dear mortified Tool of a Man,
You are not able to make a poor Flaſh in the Pan.
* Theſe Lines pever printed before.
Fire
to Madam MAINTENON. 85
Fire, Female, and Flood begin with a Letter,
And the World for them all ſcarce a Farthing's
(the better :
The Flood foon is gone, and the Fire you may
(humble,
If into the Flames ſtore of Water you tumble.
But the Fire of a Female,on the word of a Friend,
Is ne'er to be qnench'd, but burns World with
(out end.
You may call all the Engines and Pamps ?
(in the Nation
To extinguiſh the Flame,and allay Titulation,
But may piſsout as well the laſtConflagration.
Thus, Sir, I have ſent you my Thoughts of
(the Matter,
Judge you as you pleaſe, but I ſcorn to flatter.
On Enjoyment.
But as Reſiſtance feeds the Flame,
And fans the dying Fire ;
So dull Enjoyment ſpoils the Game,
By palling the Deſire.
ܪ
Monſieur
86
542287 282828A
Monfieur Scarron's Sifter's Verſes
on ber Brother's being bilk'd of
bis Spouſe's Maidenhead on the
Marriage Night. That Secret
-
being reveald, broke the Poet's
Heart.
T
AD HERE's no body knows this Seo
(cret but I,
Which I've heartily ſworn to con-
(ceal, par may foy
And I've promis’d, without any
(damın'd Reſervation,
Not to utter one word to à Soul in the Nation..
Then nuft I conceal it? alafs and älack !
I may promiſe as well to bear Pauls on my Back..
But then if I tell it, I ruin my Brother,
Why i'faith I can't help it, as well he as another..
This telling of Secrets is part of our Charter,
And for my part, I ſwear, I'll die no body's Mare.
(tyr.
Well, let me conſider once more of the matter,
Either burn, or diſcloſe it;. why, troth chufe
(the latter.
But
French Letter to Madam Maintenon. 87
But then if I ſpeak it, farewel Reputation, 2
And beſides I may raiſe his fevere Indignation,
But what Wonian alive can conceal Forni-
cation ?
Nota Female on Earth can Cuckoldom mother,
Then don't take it ill from your Sifter, good
(Brother :
You know what the Matron ſaid unto her
(Daughter,
Ne’er long keep a Secret, nor long hold your
(Water.
The French King's Letter to Ma-
dam Scarron, who was after
Madam Maintenon.
"SIR,
Am to tell you, Madam, that your
Reſiſtance has extremely aſtoniſh'd
I
me; me, I fay, that have been hi-
therto accuſtom'd to Victory, and
was never before refus'd. I al- .
ways believed, that being a King, it was ſuffi-
cient to give any Sign of my Delire, in order
to accompliſh it, but I perceive the contrary
;
by your Rigours, and therefore to oblige you
to foften them, was the Occaſion of this Let-
ter. Let me conjure you, my Deareſt, to love
me,
88 To Mr. Synh-ñ at Cambridge.
me, or at leaſt make as if you loved me. Too
wards Evening I ſhall come to ſee you, and if
then I find you no more favourable to me than
at your other Viſits, you will reduce to Exa
tremity of Deſpair the moſt paſſionate of Lo-
Vers,
LOUIS.
అతి తక్కువ
5:30NONDUV XOOXDEN
SNOOI60160
To Mr. Synh----m at Cambridge.
SIR
HE Lines hereunto fubjoin'd, were
occaſion'd by the Death of a Lady
really beautiful and ſtrictly virtu-
ous, an Ornament to her Sex, and
the Delight of her parents, and
this lovely Flower, even in blooming, dy'd,
what a Loſs the World ſuſtain'd? and what
Grief was bury'd in Obedience to Almighty
Providence ? The Relignation of her Parents
equal’d the Silence of her Departure, and ſur-
viving Friends preſerve her Memory for Imi-
tation : Thoſe who knew her were tranſported
with her Converſe, thoſe who have truly heard
of her were aſtoniſh'd at her Virtues, and her
Death feem'd a calm Tranſlation from uncer-
tain Comforts to the Throne of endlefs Hap-
pineſs; her patient Behaviour diſpelled the pu-
Gillanimous Clouds of her Relations, dying an
Example
On the Death of Mrs. Bilton. 89
Example worthy of their Obſervation, and now
preſuming the Guard of Chriſtianity á fufficient
Barrier againſt natural Force, I beg leave to
offer the following Copy of Verſes:
On the Death of Mrs. Bilton.
WHAT couldA not thou a blooming Beauty
(Spare?
And muſt your Dart deſcend on ſuch a Fair?
Łucinda's dead, and bas reſignid the Prize
To fainter Charms, and leſs inviting Eyes.
But 'tis a Sign thou’rt blind, regardleſs Death,
A Vandal wou'd have ſpar'd that valid Breath:
But thou’rt all Ice, unalterably cold,
Uncharm'd by Beauty, and unbrib'd by Gold :
Whilft zealous Vows did in the Church afcend
Beyond the Stars, I could not but offendº;
Ifix'd my Eyes, and Thoughts, and Heart on you,
As a juft Debt, and abſolutely Due.
Nor Mall that Day eſcape my Calendar,
When you afcended, and became a Star.
No, I will conſecrate your final Hour,
No Time bak e'er your Memory devour ;
Lafting as Virtue ſhall thy darling Name
Survive the Tomb, and aged Honour claim,
And mine for ever in the Rolls of Fame.
Your humble Servant, T. R.
}
The
90
The Fable of the Wolf and Por-
cupine : In Anſwer ta The
'
Argument againſt a Standing
Army.
1.
Sgrim, with Hunger pref'd, one Day
As thro’the Woods he poſted,
A Porcupine found on the way,
And in theſe Terms accofted.
11.
Our Wars are ended, Heav'n be prais'd!
Then let's ſit down and prattle
Of Towns inveſted, Sieges rais'd,
And what we did in Battle.
III.
The Plains a pleaſing Proſpect yield,
No Fire, nor Deſolation;
While Plenty reigns in every Field,
And Trade reſtores the Nation.
IV.
Yet you your Quills erected wear,
And tho' none ſeeks to harm ye ;
In time of Peace about you bear,
Methinks, a Standing Army.
V. Friend,
Fables and Epitaphs.
91
y.
Friend, quoth the Porcupine, 'tis true,
The War’s at length decided;
But ’gainſt ſuch tricking Blades as you
'Tis good to be provided.
VI.
Cenforious Fame ſhall never ſay,
That too much Faith betray'd me ;
Who thinks of me to make a Prey,
Mært at his Coſt invade me.
VII.
Let him, that thinks it worth the white,
Tempt Knaves to make a Martyr ;
The Sharpers that would me beguile,
Shall find they've caught a Tartar.
BE
An EPITAPH upon ABRA-
HAM, a Taylor's Wife.
ROM Abraham's Borom, full of Lice,
To Abraham's Bofon in Paradice;
Poor Sarah's Ghoſt has took its
(Flight,
And bid the loufy Rogue Good-Night.
T.BROWN.
An
93
00000000000000
An EPITAPH upon Barren Peg.
SA
ERE lies the Body of Barren Peg,
Who had no Iſſue, but her Leg :
But, to her Praiſe, for ſhe had that
(Cunning,
Whilſt one ſtood ſtill, the other
(was running.
T.BROWN.
MAAJAZEZZAAAA
PHRYNE" to EUGENIA
againſt Marriage.
Receiv'd yours, my Eugenia, by
the laſt Poſt, in which you give
I
me an Account of the Addreſſes
of Lyſander. You might have
fpar'd your Character of him;
he's too well known to our Sex
in this City to want his Picture to be ſent us
out
Againf !
93
MARRIAGE.
1
out of the Country; his Wit, his Gaiety, fine
Perſon, and all his other Accompliſhments,
have made more than you ſigh for him in ſpight
of his being marry'd. Whatever Sentiments a
Lady has of the Addreſſes of a marry'd Man,
before ſhe fees him, ſhe yet wiſhes for thoſe of
Lyfander, as ſoon as the beholds or hears him
ſpeak. You have therefore a Happineſs beyond
thouſands in having captivated his Heart, and
if you deny your felf the uſe of it, you owe
your own Miſery to your own foolíſh' and ca-
pricious Humour. And how many Ladies of
my Acquaintance ſigh for, and have in vain en-
deavour'd to gain that Advantage, Fortune has
voluntarily thrown into your Arms ? But he's
marry'd, you ſay, and therefore you can't be
happy, you can't enjoy your Wiſhes without a
Crime ; you can't be his Wife, and you re-
folve you'll not be what you diſdain to name.
I know not what Influence Cuſtom may have
on you, but I'm not at all mortify'd at thoſe
ignominious Notions the Vulgar have, of hav-
ing an Intrigue with a Man without the Prieſt's
Licence. For my part, Eugenia, I think the
Deſire of Marriage is more unreaſonable and
unnatural, than that of Tyrants; for 'tis im- .
mediately and knowingly to conſpire againſt
our own Liberty and Happineſs. “Love fows
the gilded Paths of Youth with a thouſand ſoft
and melting Pleaſures ; but Marriage comes,
and with one fatal Blaſt blows them all away,
and it makes us old in the very Dawn of
Youth; for not to love is to be old, and to
marry.
94 Againſt MARRIAGE.
marry is the certain way not to love. If Love
is a golden Dream, why ſhould we quit the
dear Deluſion (when in our power to avoid it)
to wake to Horror, Miſery, and Diſtraction?
* that is, Why ſhould we marry ? 'Tis true, we
read, in Novels and Romances, of Lovers faith-
ful and conſtant, nay, obſtinate Adorers of
the wiſhing fair one, in fright of all the Ob-
ſtacles of Fortune, Friends, or Rivals; but
Eugenia, theſe politick Writers lead them no
farther than Marriage in that Amour. When
they have brought the Knight and the Damſel
to the Noofe, they there leave them; all the
Golden Scenes of Love are over, and there re-
mains no more Happineſs to deſcribe. If they
ſhew us any perfevering Lover after Marriage,
they would do Wonders; tho 'twould be fo
unnatural, 'twould paſs for downright Farce.
Marriage, in my Mind, is at beſt but like the
drunken Feaſts of the Lapithites ; the Mirth,
Jollity, and Pleafure of the pompous Banquet
foon degenerates into Striſes and Combats.
Love and Conſtancy have their Reign before
Marriage, but the very words that ſeek to tie
us fafter together, immediately (like the Me-
dicines of Quacks) have a quite contrary Ope-
ration, and eternally divide us. Fortune and
your own Heart has choſe you an Object of
your Deſires, whon you can't, according to
Cuſtom, marry, fuch'a fure Proviſion has Fate
made for your Happineſs ; and you, like a
froward Child, flight the inighty Gift. But
you're afraid of the Curſe and Infanıy of an
old
Againi MARRIAGE.
95
old Maid ; firft, I ſhall little value the Opi-
nion of the World, if they think me what,
to my own real experimental Knowledge,
am not. Next, where's the Neceflity of act-
ing ſo imprudently, as to hinder your Mar-
riage hereafter? Nature has given us Deſires
and Appetites, and added a vaſt Pleaſure to
the very Act of their Satisfaction, which ſhews
it can be no Ill. . All the Dictates of Nature
are eaſy, fure, and plain, and we comply with
them at pleaſure; but the Inventions of whin-
ſical Men, that oppoſe theſe, are not followed
without Pain, without Conſtraint, and a thou-
fand Inquietudes: By this judge of the Good
or Ill of complying with our Inclinations.
This is no Plea for Proftitution, for then is
Pleaſure the conſtant Companion of natural
Actions loft. There are no more Raptures,
no more tranſporting Joys, and melting Lan-
guiſhments; all are dead, heavy, and inſipid, if
not painful and nauſeous. A moderate Exer-
ciſe affords Pleaſure and Delight, but continual
Toil and Labour is not undertaken without
Neceflity. The fame will hold in all things :
'Tis Nonſenſe to imagine, that if Love will
not make you happy, a few Canonical Hours
will do the Feat. But I have been tedious, if
this don't pleaſe you ; and long enough if it
does ; 'tis in your power to be happy if you
will, for how long I know not : but this I
know, if we muſt ſeek no Happineſs here but
what's laſting, we may be miſerable all our
Lives;
96
The Cornuted Beaux ; or,
Lives; for the moſt permanent we can't graſp
a Minute longer than Fate pleaſes. My dear
Eugenia, Adieu,
Yours.
The Cornuted Beaux : Or, a San
tyr upon Marriage.
Beaugard.
3T can't be he ! Courtine! the Brisk !
I
(the Gay!
What Hag has ſtoll'n the Fiend and
(Man away?
What Monſter is he metamorphosd to ?
How all unlike the jolly Thing we knew ?
Such Underwoods have over-run the Coaſt,
In his Beard's Thicket all his Face is loft ;
That hanging Look fad Gueſfes does invite,
And on his wrinkled Forehead, Husband write.
Courtine.
For thy unſeaſonable Mirth a Curſe,
As heavy as that Fiend that haunts me thus ;
That Conſtellation of Plagues be thine,
Which ſpightful Heaven has doom'd with Sylvia
(mine:
Be thou condemn'd to lug an endleſs Life,
The Gally-Slave to an eternal Wife.
Beaugard.
a Satyr upon Marriage.
97
Beaugard.
A friendly Wiſh! But Partners would deſtroy
That Bliſs, which none but one can well enjoy :
Lucky Courtine, how ev’n in fpight of me
Does thy good Fortūnė make me envy thée ?
How. like the neat Sir Davy, fage and wife,
New Aldermen fit budding in her Eyes!
A Face fo fair as Sylvia's ſure might move,
Spight of his Hynins, a bloodleſs Angel's Love;
And then what dull Platonick can behold
The Beauty, and the Virtue of her Gold?
The Atheift thinks a merry Life does well,
Bartering Mort pleaſant Toys for a long future Hell.
To Lovers thus the happy Night alone
For a whole Age of Torments niight attone;
After a Day of Eating, which might vie
With the Lord Mayor's, or ſhrival Luxury:
See where a Drove of envious wiſhing Friends
Around thy Bed, the Bower of Bliſs attends;
Each Squinting Gallant prays thy Place were his,
And by Delays excel the coming Bliſs:
Sack-poffet then, while each green Virgin
(throws
Prophetick Stocking at thy patient Noſe.
Sack-poſſet ftill, and when they that remove,
Next-----enters the fweet Sillibub of LOVE.
Soft Mufick then thy Lazineſs muſt chide,
And give a fair Excuſe to leave the Bride;
Not wooing Pufs can louder Songs compofe,
Nor more Diverſity of Airs than
thoſe.
Harmonious City-Maſick; ſuch a Bliſs,
'Twere worth the while to marry but for this.
Vol. y.
F
Nor
08
The Cornyted Beaux: Or,
Nor muſt you think the Joys ſhould end ſo
(foon,
There's yet a live long heavenly-hony moon;
In Wedlocks pleaſing Team, with equal Law,
Thy courteous Yoke-fellow muſt ever draw,
While Pictures of thy kind laborious Bride
Shall ſtill run foftly bellowing by thy Side.
Courtine.
Since my fair Pack ſo wond'roully does pleaſe,
Thy Shoulders lend, and be an Hercules:
I feel a Load, a heavy Hell above,
For the expected gaudy Heaven of Love;
How then would you thoſe Tinſel Pleaſures
(find
With which fly jilting Nature bribes Mankind?
SATED ERUITION does the Bliſs deſtroy,
And the next Moment knows not the Tumultuous
(Joy.
Who can reflect without juſt Rage and Fright
And deep Regret on ſuch a mean Delight?
Ye Gods! if theſe Loves higheſt Banquets be,
Brutes can love me, and better far than we:
This knew lly Fove, who when he left the Skies,
Choſe rather any other Beaſt's Diſguiſe,
The Ball, nay, th' improportionable Swan,
Much more the luſty Aſs can rival Man,
Who all their Pleaſure in Pofleflion find,
Without the curſt Allay, and Sting behind;
As Nature prompts, promiſcuouſly they rove,
And hunt free Foys, through ev'ry Field and
(Grove,
But in a Pound, what Brutes wou'd e'en make
(Love?
Man,
* Satyr upon Marriage.
99
Man, Man alone is damn'd to grinding ſtill,
And in the Priſon of his Cage muft bill;
Like a blind Stallion ever drudges on,
And gets new Slaves for Wives to ride upon;
Night-mard, like me, whom gaftly Sights purfue,
And ſcar'd with her lean Ghoſt, whom once I
(knew.
That Sylvia's now no more, who, big with
(Charms,
Dropt a whole Dow'r of Pleaſure in your Arms;
Looſe hangs the Flower, lately ſo freſh and gay,
And every Tempeſt bears new Leaves away,
Unlovely now it flags, and overblown,
And ev'ry Grace, and ev'ry Charm is gone;
Her Tenderneſs is fond, and awkward grows,
And all her Female Art affected ſhows.
True Hag all o'er: Ugly ſhe grows, and old,
And knowing this, turns jealous and a Scold;
Fletcher’s Wife-tamer durft not dare to love her,
Xantippe was a patient Grizel to her;
Each Look, each Step I tread's by her ſurvey'd;
She haunts me like my Conſcience, or ny Shade,
Expects a Statue I ſhould conſtant prove,
And daily damns my unperforming Love:
Whene'er for Quiets-fake The hooks me in,
i Heavens! how the ruffles in her Buckrum Skin,
And frights my Soul away from the-Imbrace;
No Mummy looks ſo dreadful as her Face.
So when from Gibbets and the Common-Thore
Th' officious Deyil has pimp'd, and brought his
(Friend a Whore,
!
F
So
1oo On the firſt Fit of the Gout.
So Thrieks the Wretch, when he next Mor'n has
(fpy'a
A ghaſtly Carcaſs rotting by his ſide.
Juft ſuch a Lot is mine; I drudge nay Life
Worſe than with Legion far, poffefs'd with
(WIFE:
Wou'd Fate and Hell ſome higher III provides
And club for any other Plague beſide,
I foon ſhould eaſy and contented grow,
In ſpight of Bolts above, and Flames below:
No ſuch luxurious Eaſe I ask in vain,
And like poor Adam muſt alive remain,
Whom 'vengeful Fate did to curs'd Woman
(chain,
In Judgment gave him an unkind Reprieve,
And damn'd him to ten thouſand Hells in Eve.
On the firft Fit of the Gout.
Elcome thou friendly Earneſt of
(fourſcore
W
Promiſe of Wealth, that haſt alone
(the pow'r
T'attend the Rich, unenvied by the Poor ;)
Thou that doſt Aſculapius deride,
And o'er his Gallipots in Triumph ride.
Thou that art usd l'attend the Royal Throne,
And underprop the Head that bears the Crown.
Thou
On the firſt Fit of the Gout.
IOI
Thou that doft oft in Privy Council wait,
And drive from drowſy Sleep the Eyes of State.
Thou that upon the Bench art mounted high,
And warn'ſt the Judges how they tread awry 5
Thou that art half the ſober City's Grace,
And adds to folenın Noddle folemn Pace.
Thou that doft oft from pamper'd Prelate Too
Emphatically urge the Pains below :
Thou that art usd, on amorous Ladies Knee,
To feed on Jellies, and to drink cold Tea :
Thou that art never from Velvet Slippers free,
Whence comes this unfought Honour unto me?
Whence does this mighty Condeſcenſion flow
To viſit my poor Tabernacle? Oh!...
;)
Thus Jove himſelf, from Ida's Top, 'tis ſaid,
At poor Philemon's Cot once took his Bed ;
And pleas'd with his kind hoſpitable Feaft,
Jove bid him ask, and granted his Requeſt :
So do thou grant (for thou art of Race Divine,
Begot on Bacchus, the Great God of Wine).
My humble Syit, and either give me Store
To entertain thee, or ne'er fee ine nore.
2:
F 3
A
13.30 i -
102
IN
A DIALOGUE between a
Cuckoldy Courtier and bis
Lady.
Husband.
Hould modeſt Ladies ſteal abroad,
Mobb'd up like Common Panks or
S
(Bawd,
Without their Stays, in wanton
(Dreſſes,
Juſt fit for amorous Careſſes.
What bafe Intrigue are you upon ?
And whither, Madam, is't you run?
Squirting about in Hackney.Coach,
Like Jilt in queſt of new Debauch.
Without your Footman, or your Maid,
As if you feard to be betray'd;
Sneak home by Night at twelve a Clock,
Diſcharge your Coach before you knock :
Then gently tapping are, with Caution,
Let in by her that waits your Motion.
And when you've ſily crept up Stairs,
Pretend to goan Hour to Pray’rs ;
Asif Devotion was deſign'd
For nothing but a Holy Blind:
So
Dialogues on Cuckoldom.
103
So pious Jilts, that kiſs and pray,
Repent, and fin again next Day.
a
Lady.
Bleſs me! my Dear ! you're wond'rous free;
What means this Fit of Jealouſy ?
Am I a Vaffal or a Wife ?
Your Lady, or a Slave for Life ?
Muſt I, to pleaſe your Whim, be ty'a
In my own Coach always to ride ?
Sute al my Actions to the Eyes
Of Servants, and be watch'd by Spies?
Suppoſe I had a mind to call
At Pinners, or at Salters-Hall;
Only for once or fo, to hear
The Low-Church way of preaching there :
Or that, upon fome publick Day,
I long'd to hear old Daniel Burgbeſspray;
Not thro Devotion, I proteft,
But purely for a Pulpit-Jeft.
Since we are Churck-Folks, it is fitting
The World fhould know I go to th' Meeting.
When if my Equipage ſhould wait
At Door, the Town would know it ſtrait:
And where's the harn, if, in theſe Caſes,
I go diſguis'd to fuch-like Places ?
.
Huband.
Good Heavens! what would Woman dog
To cloke the Vices they purſue ?
F 4
And
104 Dialogues on Cukoldom.
And paint their Ills with pious Cheating,
If 'twas not for the Church or Meeting?
Religion, once the Prop of State,
What is't thou'rt become of late ?
The very Scandal of the Gown,
The common Banter of the Town ;
As manag'd now, the Nation's Curſe,
Th' aſpiring Villian's Stalking-Horſe;
The Trader's holy Face and Mien,
To hide the Knave that lurks within ;
The Cauſe of ev'ery ſpightful Jar,
The Bane of Peace, and Drum of War ;
The Wife's Excuſe, whene'er ſhe flies
To ſatiate on forbidden Joys: 1
In ſhort, 'tis now a Cloke put ono policies
For every Evil that is doney in 10 20
Therefore, pray Madain, ceaſe your prating
Of going mobb'd to Chrerc or Meeting :
when yon fteal out in fuch looſe Dreftes,
I know you find more private Places ;
Not to ſerve God, but to promote. Web
The Pleaſure of the Petticoat, 5419
Syst?
, whilft you consply
With Ills you cannot juſtify.
Lady.
And to have
دهد تا
My Dear, to hear you talk ſo odly,
'Twould vex me, were I ne'er ſo Godly ;
But as you fancy, pray Tuppoſe,
(For Jealoufy's the 'De'il, God knows)
That
wa
Dialogues on Cuckoldom.
That when I'm mobb'd' ta fuch a pickley
I am too wanton or too fickle,
To trouble Churcb or Conventicle.
But have, perhaps, a mind to ſee
Some fooliſh Curiofity,
Th’ Arabian Goat, or ſome ſuch Creature,
Whofe Horns are Miracles in Nature:
Or if by chance I take a looſe
To do what's more ridiculous;
And, bluſhing, laugh an Hour away,
To ſee the Moorfield's Strolers play;
Who by their aukward Struts tranfverſe
A Tragedy into a Farce ;
Or, vice verfa, make you weeps
At Comedy, till faft aſleep :
Thus when they mean that we fhould cry,
We laugh, to ſee their Lovers die,
They do't fo very aukwardly.
And when they come to make us glad,
Their Tragick Tone ftill keeps us fad;
Therefore, ny Dear, if I take pleaſure
In ſuch Fanatick Whins as theſe are ;
Where is the Scandal, or the Crime,
Of a Mack-Coach at ſuch a tinie;
a
And, without Equipage, to go
In Diſabelle to ſee a Show ;;
Since Lords and Ladies often trole
From Court as far as Hockley-Hole,
To ſee the Dogs, the Bulls, aud Bears
Halloo'd together by the Ears ?
For tho fome think fuch ragged Sport
Too. rugged for the nobler Sort;
1
Ivona:
106 Dialogues on Cuckoldom,
I vow 'tis but a Jeft ; for we
That call our ſelves the Quality,
Have all our Whims'; act, jeſt, and talk,
And play the Fool like other Folk ;
Only our Grandeur cheats their Eyes,
And makes them think we are more wiſe.
Husband.
But I hear, Madam, you are fami'd
For a worſe Sport than you have nan’d
And that your Hackneys and Diſguiſes.
Are all but infamous Devices
To drive on your Intrigues the better,
And make my ſprouting Shame the greater.
What muſt I bring you firſt to Court,
And then be thus rewarded fort?
Was it for this your Pride aſpir'd
To dwell among the fawning Herd ?
That you might proſtitute your Charms.
To this, and that gay Blockhead's Arms?
And with a Baſtard mottled Race
My antient Family debaſe
By your curs d Tail and tenpting Looks,
Make it as fpurious as a Duke's ?
But I'll revenge the Wrongs you've done meg
Or a worſe Plague ſhall light upon me.
Lady.
Prithee, ny Dear, don't let your Pallion
Thus riſe without juſt Provocation ;
Ü
My
Dialogues on Cuckoldomi 107
My Lady Backwell can inform you,
I ne'er do any thing to harm you;
For whenfoe'er I ſteal abroad,
Mobb'd up in Furbelow or Hood;
I never fail to call upon her;
And none can touch her ſpotleſs Honour :
Therefore you need not doubt your Wife,
She'll witneſs my obedient Life,
And all the Liberties I take,
Where-e'er I go behind your Back.
But Men, I find, will ſtill diſtruſt
Their Wives, altho'they're ne'er ſo juſt;
And from the Guilt of their own Vices,
Puniſh themſelves with ſtrange Surmiſes.
Husband.
It is not all your ſham Pretences.
Can longer ſmother your Offences ;
You need not go Incog. to ſee
The Arabian Goat, but look at me :
Your wanton Tail has made my Creſt
Vie Antlers with that monſtrous Beaſt:
Long have. I gueſs'd, by your looſe Carriage,
You've broke the ſolemn Vows of Marriage.
But now I know my Fate as certain,
As if my Eyes had feen my Fortune;
And that my Forehead could proclaim
Your Faults to my eternal Shane.
Lady
108
Dialogues on Cuckoldom.
Lady.
Be patient till your Horns appear,
Don't be fo poſitive, my Dear;
Becauſe he only is, you know,
The Cuckold who believes he's fo.
What fooliſh Story has poffeft
Your Noddle, and infland your Breaft?
What ſervile Sycophant or Spy
Has brib'd your Friendſhip with a Lye?
And, for the fake of fome By-End,
Has ſily prov'd a treach'rous Friend ?
Prithee believe no idle Tales
Of what I did at Tunbridge-Wells.
Or what fine Spark among the Beaux
At Bath for a Gallant I choſe.
The World's ill-natur'd and cenforious,
And modest Wives, whoſe Charms are glorious,
Are often fallly made notorious.
He that would lead a happy Life,
Muſt always liſten to his Wife;
And for the Truth depend upon her,
In all things that reſpect her Honour :
For he that ever lends an Ear
Tocommon Fame, that common Lyar,
May be a Cuckold in his Thought,
Altho his Lady ne'er was naught.
Thus 'tis not what we really are,
That frets the jealous Breaſt with Care ;
But what we think our felves to be,
That oft creates our Miſery.
, },
Theo
Dialogues on Cuckoldoni
109
Then what dull Sott would horn his Brows,
By harb'ring Evil of his Spouſe;
Since if he thinks her chafte and good,
No Cukold's he, tho' fhe be lowd?
Husband.
The Jilt does many ways deviſe
To blind her injurd Husband's Eyes
Will ſtill perſuade the Fool ſhe's chaſte,
Tho ne'er To looſe about the Waſte ;
Efpecially if not detected
I'th Fault of which ſhe is ſuſpected.
But I've diſcover'd your Abuſe
Of Marriage, far beyond Excuſe;
Have prov'd at laſt too Cunning for yez
And found juſt Reaſons to abhor ye.
1
а
Lady.
Prithee, my Dear, don't fhew your Heat,
So like a Cuckold in Conceit;
And vent your Spleen, aş if your Eyes
Had witneſs'd my Infirmities.
V!
Perhaps your jealous Ears have heard,
I'm much admir'd by ſuch a Lord;
And that we met ſome Afternoon
At Chelſea, or at Kenſington :
What then, can't Lords and Ladies take t'in
A Frisk for Converſation's fake of
Be merry o'er a Flask or two,
F2A
Drink a cool Sillibub or ſo ;
But
Lio Dialogues on Cuckoldom.
But like falucious Punks and Play'rs,
They muſt defile the Tavern Chairs ?
O fóh! I hate a jealous Sot,
That harbours fuch a Beaſtly. Thought.
I'm ſure they muſt have led ill Lives,
That judge ſo hardly of their wives;
For thoſe, who are themſelves unjuſt,
Are always fulleſt of Diſtruſt.
Husband.
Moſt rarely urg'd, imperious Creature !
Cunning by Practice, leud by Nature
A moſt incomparable Plea
For faithleſs Woman's Liberty ;
If a Man once be well affur'd
His Lady rambles with my Lord,
And meets his Honour up and down
In Holes and Corners out of Town:
I think he has Cauſe enough to gueſs
His Wife has fould her Wat'ring-Place ;
And ought, I ſay, to take't for granted,
His Horns are very firnily planted.
What Buſineſs can a Wife pretend
To have with any ſtrong.back'd Friend ;
But to oblige her luftful Paſſion
with baſe adult'rous Recreation ?
Therefore its Proof enough, Pox take her!
To know. fhe meets her Cuckoldnaker ;
For would ſhe have her Husband fee,
As the Law calls it, Rem in Re?
Lady.
Dialogues on Cuckoldom:
LII
Lady.
O fie upon you ! by my Life
Your Talk's enough to ſpoil a Wife:
There's ſtuff indeed, I thought that no Man
Would uſe ſuch words before a Woman.'
Husband.
You're mighty modeſt by your prating,
But Pox take him that taught you Latin :
I find you have been made by fome Man
Too good a Scholar for a Woman.
Lady.
I'm not ſo ignorant, you may ſee,
As you believe your Wife to be
Perhaps your Jealouſy in time,
May improve my knowledge to a Crime
And make you apt to think me naughty
Becauſe I underſtand what's what..
I've read, my Dear, I muſt allow,
The Tryal of a Rape e'er now ;
Yet ne'er was ravilh'd in my Life,
Before, or fince, I've been your Wife :
Therefore, I hope, you don't diſtruſt
I
I'm diſobedient or unjuſt;.
Becauſe, my Dear, I dont' applaud ye,
For ſpeaking fulſome Latin Bawdy..
Husband.
112
Dialogues on Cuckoldom.
Husband.
You banter, Madani, mighty well.;
I know you've Tongue, as well as Tail:
Both which have not only been try'd
By me, but many more befide.
Who was it call'd the other Day
At Man's, upon Sir Frederick Gay;
Took him into her Hackney Coach,
And carryd off the young Debauch i
At Whitehall-stairs took Boat juſt after,
And to Spring-Gardens croſs'd the Water ;
There ſpent fix hours, to both your fhame,
In doing what's too bad to name.
+
Lady
I'll take my Oath 'twas none of 1,
Ift it had, I'd ſcorn to tell a Lye.
Sir Frederick! By my Life and Soul,
I know the Gentleman, that's all.
But pray, my Dear, fuppofe I had
Done what you fay, you've done as bad.
Who was it took a homely, cloudy
Laſcivious, poor, theatrick Dowdy;
Cloth'd her as richly, and as fine,
As if her Charnis had outfhone mine :
Down from the Garret brought the Jilt
To Holland Sheets, and Sattin Quilt
Kept her as if she’ad been a Dutcheſs,
To pleaſe and humour your Debauches ?
How
Dialogues on Cuckoldom.
113
How then can you expect I'll be
True to a Man that falfe to me;
Since I have Youth and Beauty too,
At leaſt, I'm ſure, enough for you?
Husband.
Both Sexes love the pleaſing Sport;
It is a reigning Vice at Court;
I've had my am'rous Freaks, 'tis true,
And ſo, I'm fatisfy'd have you;
Therefore what's Honour but a Cheat
Anong the Noble and the Great ?
Since we of Wealth and high Degreex:
Who boaſt of Birth and Quality,
Are far more bare behind the Curtain,
Than thoſe coptent with meaner Fortune,
అతలత లతలలతలతలలోeleport
On PLEASURE: Out of
French.
ELL, whate'er Sins by Turns have
(ſway'd me,
Ambition never reach'd niy Heart;
Its leud Pretences ne'er betray'd me,
In publick Ills to act a part.
Let
114
On PLEASURE.
Let others Fame or Wealth purſuing,
Deſpiſe a mean, but fafe Retreat;
I'll ne'er contrive my own Undoing,
Nor ſtoop ſo low as to be Great.
The faithleſs Court, the tricking Change,
What folid Pleafures can they give ?
Oh let me in the Country range!
'Tis there we breathe, 'tis there we live.
The beauteous Scene of aged Mountains,
Smiling Valleys, murmuring Fountains,
Lambs in flow'ry Paſtures bleating,
Eccho our Complaints repeating.
Bees with buſy Sounds delighting,
Groves to gentle Sleep inviting jo!
Whiſpring Winds the Poplars courting,
Swains in ruſty Circles fporting,
Birds, in chearful Notes, expreſſing
Nature's Bounty, and their Blefling:
Theſe afford a laſting Pleaſure,
Without Guilt, and without Meaſure.
IIS
GL
A Letter from Mr. Brickland, an
Oxford Taylor, to Mr. Tho-
mas Brown; with Mr. Brown's
Anſwer.
28 Ightning and Deftruction, Mr. Brown !
what do you mean? My Wife,
my Man, and I have been theſe
three days in purſuit of you, to no
Se
your old Haunts, from Boccardo to Friar Bar
con's Study ; ny Min has hunted all Holywell
and St. Giles's, and I my ſelf have been at all
the Ale-houſes and Bawdy-houſes in St. Tho-
mas's, St. Toml's, and St. Ann's, but the De-
vil a word was to be heard of Mr. Brown.
When you have no Money, you're eaſy enough to
be found ; then you are to be heard of at Mo-
ther Carpenter's, or at Hart's, Harding's, or
fome other of your Offices, where either you
or any of your Comrogues have any Credit.
What the Devil, is the Devil in you, to keep
2. Body out of a Bady's Money, when à Body ·
wants
116
Oxford Taylor's Letter.
wants it ? Gad's Fleſh and Blood you'd make &
Body mad : And there's your two Pupils, Hey
wood and Gofney too, owe me for two Suits
and a Gown each, and have put nie off with
their flim-fiams for this five Months; but I'll
be ſerv'd lo no longer by them, nor you, nor
no Body elſe. I'll get leave, and one Writ will
ſerve you all, and have you I will, if among
the Living; and to Baccardo you go, and there
you ſhall lie till you're as rotten as fo many
Medlers: 'Tis a very hard Cafè, that you'll
ſpend the Money you had fent you, and neither
your Bed-maker, Waſherwoman, nor any of
your Creditors, of which I am the chief,
ſhould have one Shilling, This is the old way;
but look you, Sir, your ſhams fhan't always
ferve your Turn, and I am refolved to be as
troubleſome and malicious as I can, unleſs
ſpeedily paid, and then you ſhall find me your
humble Servant, as formerly, to command,
JOHN BRICKLAND,
From my Houſe, near
the May-pole,Sept.
27. being Saturday,
As ſoon as this Letter came to hand, Tom
fummons's a Committee to meet at Mother Care
penter's, to conſider what Anſwer was fit to
be returned in an Affair of ſo great Impon-
tance, where 'twas concluded Mr. Brown was
the propereſt Perſon to draw it ; which he did
in the following manner, and ſuperſcribed, To
Mr. John Brickland, Taylor, in Oxon.,
We
Mr. Brown's Auftuer.
017
We the under-written, Simon Heywoody Rio
chard Goſney, John White Stephen Townſend,
and Thomas Browon, having maturely confi-
dered the Purport of your Charge, drawn up
againft us in an Epiſtolary Remonftrance, dated
from your own. Houſe near the May-pole, Sept.
the 27th. being Saturday, do think it neceffas
ry, in behalf of our felves, and the reſt of
your Cuſtomers, Under Gratuates of the Uni-
verſity of Oxford, to obſerve to you, that long
Truft and good Manners are the nroft exem-
plary Qualifications of a Taylor, and the fureſt
way for you to preſerve your old Cuſtomers,
gain new Ones, and recover your Debts. But,
Sir, we muſt give you to underſtand, that if
you continue to treat us in this contumelious,
Anigmatical, and Scandalous Manner, we ſhall
immediately proceed to fuch Terms of Refent-
ment, that will not only oblige you to reſtrain
your Wife from ſuch unneceſſary. Purſuits, but
likewiſe conſult ſuch other Methods, as for
the future fhall engage both your felf and Man
to keep your ſelves more ſtrictly within the
Limits of your own Juriſdiction. Look you,
Mr. Brickland, this is our Reſolution, that if
you fhould, for the time to come, difturb us
any niore with your dunning Epiftless or at-
tempt to put us under any other Difficulties,
we ſhall not only put our felves upon our
Guard, and endeavour to repel Force with
Force but withal unanimouſly determine not
to pay you one Shilling for theſe twelve
Montl's
1
118 Dialogue on the Times.
Months next enſuing the Date hereof: But if
you keep your Temper, give good Words, and
more Credit, if we, or any of us Thall have
any juſt Occaſion, then you may depend up-
on it, when the next Returns conie, you ſhall
aſſuredly come in for a ſnack, according to the
true Intent and Meaning of theſe Preſents.
Given under our Hands this sth Day of Octo-
ber, &c.
a
A DIALOGUE betwixt Sir
A
Roger L'Eſtrange, Harry Carr,
and a Diſſenter, on K. James's
Declaration for Liberty of Con-
ſcience.
Oxon, Printed 1688.
Harry H Sir, I am glad to ſee you !
What, Anno Ætatis fuæ 72.
o
and yet ſo brave and lufty ?
Having not of late ſeen any
thing from you, I was afraid
that the Difficulty of finding out Self-Mur-
derer, had tempted you to make, upon your
felf fome fatal Experiment, like the Philofo-
3
pher,
Dialogues on the Times.
119
pher, when he could not ſolve the Motion of
the Sea, threw himſelf into it.
Roger. I muſt confeſs, Harry, I have been
of late (but much againſt my Inclinations) ve-
ry uſeleſs; nay Talent, and the preſent Poſture
of Affairs are diametrically oppoſite : Had the
Church-of-England-Men been our own, I could
have run Divilions upon the Diffenters ad infi-
nitum. I would have proved them a Pack of
Rebels for a whole Century; I would have
made the laſt 88 to be of a Piece with this;
and the invincible Armada fhould have been be-
lieved to be no more than a Fanatick Conſpi-
racy.
Har. Nay, the Diffenters are not at this
time to be provoked.
Rog. That I am ſenſible of, and therefore I
have endeavoured all I could to bring my ſelf
to ſpeak for them ; bnt I find I do it fo auk-
wardly, that you would as ſoon cure the Rica
kets in any one of my Age, as bring any thing of
nine into ſhape that pleads for them. My An-
ſwer to the Letter to a Diſenter, I hope, was an
ample Specimen of my good Will ; but ny
Wit lay ſo much the other way, that my An-
ſwer was looked upon to be the worſt of the
four and twenty i beſides, my printing the
Letter at large, made me in danger to be
brought in as a Diſperſer of the Libel.
Har. I muſt tell you, Sir Roger, that An-
fwer, with ſome other late Writings of yours,
has a little atton'd for your old Sins : and tho'
the Diflenters do not look upon you as their
beſt
120
Dialogues on the Times.
G
beſt Friend ; yet it has in fome meaſure all
layed the Enmity between them and the Ser
pent.
Rog. Now you have put me in mind, I think
I have given the Diſfenters, in fonte of my laſt
Obſervators, a very pleaſing farewel : If I be
not miſtaken, 1 ſpoke notable things for the
Toleration ; and were it not for the Reproach
of Self-contradiction, I could have fáid twenty
times as much.
Har. What need you fear Self-contradiction
fo níuch ? Cannot you fay, That repón a Change
of Circumftances, a Man may likewiſe very his
Judgment as to Toleration, with a reſpect to hic
& nunc ; (R. L's Anſwer to the Letter to a
Diſenter, pag. 12.), and what was abominable
in one Reign, may be Law and Goſpel in ano:
ther?
Rog. You ſpeak right; to alter one's Opinion,
tho' at Threeſcore and Twelve, I think is no
very great Blemiſh : But I that have fo often
challeng'd the world to diſcover two claffing
Sentences in all my Writings; that have carried
my Matters always ſo even, that to diſcover
one Flap in nie, was as difficult as to find out
Sir Edmund-Bury Godfrey's Murder : For me
to ſpeak home for Toleration, would make it
a harder Task to find an Agreement between
my Works, than it would be to reconcile the
two Churches.
Har. What is't you have ſo unluckily ſaid,
that will niake it ſo heinous in you to write
for Toleration.
Rogº
.
Dialogues on the Times. 121)
Rog. Oh ! I have fpoke againſt the Diſſenters
ſuch hard Words, that now I could willingly
eat them ; but withal, they are ſo full of
Gall and Bitterneſs, that ſhould I ſwallow
them, they were in danger to come up again.
Har. 'Tis but gilding them then, Sir Roger;
a few Preſents from the Diffenting Party,
ſuppoſe, will make them run down eaſily.
But what are theſe cutting Expreflions ?
Rog. Why, among other things, I have
faid, That Liberty of Conſcience was a Paradox
againſt Law, Reafon, Nature, and Religion :
(Obf.Vol. III. Numb.47.) and ſhould I now
unlay all this, the Wags would make ſuch Work
with me, as I formerly made with Richard
and Baxter.
Har. Have you never an old Diſtinction then
left to help you out at a dead Lift? I remem-
ber when I had occaſion to conſult your Wri-
tings, diſtinguiſhing was the beſt part of your
Talent.
Rog. That, you muſt know, I have already
attempted, when I pereeived that an Indul-
gence was a brewing, I thought it was high
time for me to draw back, and pull in my
Horns; and therefore I inimediately fell to
work, and ſplit the Hair. I artificially di-
vided an Indulgence, into an Indulgence granted,
and an Indulgence. taken ; into an Indulgence
;
that mall owe it ſelf to the Favour of the Prince,
and an Indulgence that mall be got by the Importu-
nities of the People: (Obferv. Vol. 3. Nuni. 43.)
By thus nicely diſtinguiſhing the Matter, I was
Vol. V.
G
in
!
1
1
ė
122 Dialogues on the Times.
in hopes to reſcue the preſent Toleration from
the Strokes of my former Animadverſions ;
and in my Anfwer to the Letter to a Diffenter,
iny telling the Diffenters, that the Declaration
of Indulgence ran to them, and not they to the
Declaration (Anfwer to the Letter, pag. 3.) I
think was a full Comment upon the Text, as
it stands thus divided.
Har. Methinks, Sir Roger, this Diſtinction
is very ridiculous, and I can compare it to no-
thing more than to a Decree of the Council of
Conftance, which I remember, ever fince I writ
may Pacquet, runs thus : Upon the Debate a-
bout the Communion in one kind, it was ordered,
that when the Laity deſired rle Cup, it was by
all means to be denied them; but if they
would ſubmit to the Non-obftante, to our Sa-
viour's Inſtitution, and not defire it, then they
might be allowed to partake of it: So that, Ask,
and ye foal receide, it feens is a Rule that
will by no means hold in the Caſe of Tolera-
tion.
· Rog. I muſt confeſs I was there hard put to
it, and, you may be ſure, that 'twas not wil-
lingly that I took my Leave fo abruptly of
the Obſervator, and went trailing like a Blood-
hound after the Murder of Sir E B.G.
Har. Let Murder alone, when all comes to
all, 'tis but faying he was a Heretick, and then
killing, you know, is no Murder. Our Buli-
nefs muſt now be to get off the Penal. Lapos.
Rog. Penal Laws! Had my Endeavours, fuc
ceeded, they thould have been kept up to the
end
Dialogues on the Times. 123
ܪ
end of the Chapter, ay, and as tight too as a-
ny! Fiddle-ſtring. Could I but have brought
over the Charch-of-England Men, our Buſineſs
had been done; and, I think, I drew as good
a Scheme for Accommodation, as ever Caſan-
der did, or the Biſhop of Spulato : Had that
Project' took, the Penal Lars would have been
as uſeful to us as the Inquiſition, and then I
had boldly affirmed, That neither the Church of
England, nor the Members of the Church of
Rome, could be joined in a Toleration with the
Fandticks, but with the certain Ruin of both.
(Obf. Vol. 3. Numb. 134.)
Har. Theſe Church-of- England Men are ve
ry obſtinate.
Rog. Ay, and perverfe too ; inſomuch that
you would as ſoon perfuade the Pope to part
with the Franchiſes, as bring them to pray to
the People in an unknown Tongue. Tother
Day a friend of ours (I ſuppoſe after reading
my Project of Accommodation) asked a Church-
man: In cafe the Church of Rome ſhould give
up Tranfubftantiation, what would the Church
of England part with in order to a Reconcilia,
tion. And what doft think the Churchian
offered in exchange?
Har. Why, the nine and thirty Articles, I
fuppofe.
Rog. I proteſt only Paffive-Obedience ; and I
would no more take that Principle from them,
than I fhould unfhackle a Madman. Paflivea
Valour is a Virtae I love in an Enemy; and
'tis as neceffary for our Preſervation that they
hold
G2
124
Dialogues on the Times.
hold this Doctrine, as 'tis for the Grand Seig-
nior, that a Bafla believes that of Fatality,
when he is to undergo the Diſcipline of the
Bow-ſtring.
Har. I give the Church-of-England Men for
loft ; ani therefore, for my part, my Pro-
vince ſhall be to gain the Diffenters, I think the
Wind blows fairelt from that ſide.
Rog. Prithee, Harry, how cameſt thee to be
either beloved by the Papifts, or believed by
the Diſenters ? I am ſure you have ſpoke as
ſevere things of the Papifts, as ever I did of
the Fanaticks; and yet, by a ſudden Turn,
you are become as gracious, as if you were a
Convert of fonie conſiderable Standing,
Har. I perceive you don't underſtand the
Virtue of Holy Water ; this powerful ſprink-
ling will immediately reſtore a Man to the
State of Innocence : Had Adam but known
this eaſy Receipt, he would never have been
at the Expence of Fig-Leaves. You muſt know
I have all my old Sins forgiven me, and I am
now as clean as if I had been over Head and
Ears in Fordan.
Rog. But all thy Waſhings will not clear thy
Contradictions: Thy Pacquet of Advice, and
the Weekly Occurrences, are as oppoſite as Fire
and Water , and I wonder how thou canſt ſo
:
ſhamefully prevaricate, without one ſingle
Bluſh to alter thy Complexion. When I was
preſſed hard with my former Opinions, I ſet
off the falſe Coin with ſome plauſible Varniſ,
and always diftinguiſhed where I could not faire
ly
Dialogues on the Times.
125
ly deny; but thou would'ſt fain cheat, even in
fpight of Day-Light. Thy Juggle is ſo eaſily
detected, that by thus openly publiſhing thy
Shame, one would think this Task was given
thee, not ſo much that thy Maſters had need
of thy Pain, as to oblige thee to a Penance.
Har. Puh, Sir Roger, you know Words are
Wind, and why ſhould one no more than t'o-
ther be tied to one Point of the Compaſs. He
that can turn and double upon a Stage, is al-
ways applauded for his Performances; and why
may not a dextrous Change of Opinion be as
much commended for the Activity of the
Brain, as the other is for the Agility of Body:)
Rog. In troth, Harry, I muſt confeſs thy
Brain is of a very ſingular Conſtitution, and
thy late Writings are ſuch Originals, that, for
my part, I think thou deſerveſt to have a Pa-
tent for Scribbling; thou art of late the very
Darling of the Papiſt, and thou carrieſt on the
Buſineſs of Rome ſo vigoroufly, that I do not
doubt, in a ſhort time, to ſee thee Secretary
to the Conclave.
Har. Why, I believe I do them no ſmall
Service with my Occurrences, I take froni them
the Odium of Perſecution, by fixing it upon
the Church of England ; I fill the Peoples Heads
ſo full with Penal Laws, that there is no room
left for the Inquiſition"; and if one blabs about
Queen Mary's Days, I immediately ſtop his
Mouth with the 35th of Elizabeth.
.
a
3
G.3
.)
Rogi
126 Dialogues on the Times.
Rog. But you are very frugal in giving Inſtan"
ces of the Severities of the Church of England,
not above one in a Paper.
Har. You muſt know, he that has not much
Butter, muſt ſpread it thin; I muſt make the
moſt of what I have, for I am afraid hereafter
I am not like to have from that fide any more
Examples. But if you obſerved, I manage
Matters to the bejt Advantage : When, once
upon a time, there was taken from a Quaker à
Warming-Pan for the Church Dues, I put in a
notable Innuendo, and hinted 'twas then Cold
Weather: What think you ? May not that be
called, The Warming-Pan Perfecution?
Rog. Ay, that was indeed hot and flery ; to
take a Warning-Pan from a Quaker, was a lit.
tle too unchriftian, whom not only the Sea-
for, but his Religion, obliged to frequent Fits
of Shaking.
Har. And now you talk of your diftinguiff-
ing, I think I have had lately a notable fetch
that way too.
When I had, in one of my
Occurrences, accuſed the Clergy of London of
cheating the poor of Sion College, in keeping
from them the Charity of the Founder (Occnr.
Numb. 11.) and the Malice and Falfhood of my
Accufation being unluckily publiſhed, I was
hard put to it to avoid the Charge of Evil-
ſpeaking, Lying, and Slandering'; therefore,
;
in my next Paper, I did proteft, that in my
former Story, I did not intend to reflect upon the
London Clergy (Occuren. Numb. 12.) So that
here is the Clergy of London, and the London
Clergy
Dialogues en the Times,
:127
Clergy make up a very ſerviceable Diftint-
tian.
Rog. Your Occurrences then, I perceive, are
to inſult over the Church of Ergland, and there-
by to divert the Papiſts, and gain the Diffen-
ters.
Har. You are in the right on't; this Church-
of- England, you know, is our greateſt Obſta-
cle; it vexes me to think that an Heretical
Church ſhould be by Lam Eft abliſ.ed. Theſe
Laws are ſuch unlucky ways of fortifying, that
they ſtand more in our way than Walls and
Bastions. Could we but once level their work,
you would not find it long before we fell to
Storming, and I think we have already made
fome confiderable Advances.
Rog. And do the Diffenters come on kindly?
Har. Why, truly, ſome of them are pret-
ty forward, and we favour them accordingly :
We do as the Patriarchs did of old, he that
comes in firſt receives the Bleſſings if they
promiſe fairly, then we place them in conve-
nient Stations, we put them in ſach Pofts that
are fomething for their Honour, as well as for
our Ufe.
Rog. I muft confefs, for my part, I am not
for advancing the Diffenters too much; and
tho' I cannot but approve of their pre fent Be-
haviour, yet I am not for truſting them too
far, for they are ſlippery Creatures.
Har. Truſting then, quoth-a ; why, who
does? Have you ever ſeen a Diffenter at the
Head of a Regiment ? Have you ever heard
that
G 41
128
Dialogues on the Times.
that any of them was made Lieutenant of the
Tower, or Governour of a Gariſon? The Offi-
ces they are generally put into, are Places of
Expence, and not Profit. If any of them has a
Mandate to be Mayor or Aldernian of a Town.
he is fo precarious in his Office, that he dares
not make one falſe Step upon pain of another
Regulation : And withal they commonly act
in conjunction with Papiſts; ſo that they are
no move than Vader. IVorkmen, they are only
employed, not truſted.
Rog. Here is a Diſſenter a coming; I gueſs
he comes to beg your Affiſtance, Harry, either
to prefent an Addreſs, or to get a Commiſſion
to regulate ſone ſtubborn Corporation. He
looks as if he had a ſpight to the Teſt and Pe-
nal Laws.
Har. Let me alone, I'll warrant you I nia-
nage him to Advantage ; and if I do not make
him as rank a Repealer as any is in England,
I'll forfeit all the Gain of my Occurrences.
Rog. Well, I'll take my leave of you; and
at our next Meeting fhall expect an Account of
your Tranſactions, and in what Forwardneſs
Affairs ſtand for a Parliament. Farewel.
Enter an Honeſt Diſſenter.
Diſſenter. Gentlemen, I am forry I have
diſturbed you, and that I ſhould be the Occa-
fion of breaking up ſo choice and ſelect a Meet-
ing. My Buſineſs is only with you, Harry,
and not ſo urgent neither, but that I can re-
tire, and call upon you at your leiſure.
Har. Sir, you are heartily welcome, 'I am
.
а
never
Dialogue on the Times.
129
1
never ſo engaged, but that I am always ready
to wait upon a Perſon of your Character.
Your's, I am ſure, is publick Buſineſs, and ſincei
I have not of late feen your Hand to an Ada
dreſs, I doubt not but you come at leaſt fome
Hundreds ſtrong.
Diſ. That is not at preſent my Buſineſs.
You muſt know there is a ſmall Piece in his
Majeſty's Service lately fallen vacant, which
lies fo conveniently in my Neighbourhood,
that as it may not be of ſuch Advantage to ana
other, ſo no one perhaps can ſo eaſily attend
the Duty with ſo much Diligence as my ſelf ;.
and therefore ſince I am told, that now all
Offices are diſpoſed of without Diftinction; I
hope, by virtue of former Acquaintance, I may
beg your Intereſt on ny behalf.
Har. Before I can appear your Friend, you:
muft anſwer me firſt to fome few Queſtions
for no man muſt expect his Reward, before he
can fay his Catechiſm. Will you, whenever there
is a Parliament called, endeavour to chooſe ſuch
Men as will take off the Test and
Penal Laws?
Dil. What is the meaning of this?
Har. You muſt know then, that no one is
to be either promoted to, or continued in an
Office, who will not anſwer affirmatively to
this Queſtion?
Dil. Why this is encountring Tot with
Test, fetting one Nail to drive out another; if
a Man be not qualified for an Office but upon
uch Conditions: You ſeem to ſend up as hard
,
fthings as thoſe you would haye abrogated. For
1
4
GS
what
2301 Dialogues on the Times
ܪ
what is the Differenee between your obliging a
Man to abjure the Teft, and the Laws requir-
ing him to renounce Tranfubftantiation? but
only this, that for my part I think renouncing
Tranfubftantiation to be the more innocent.;
Har. There is a greater Difference than you
may imagine: For the Declaration that is re-
quired by the Law is a violence to a Man's Con-
a
fcience; 'tis obliging him to renounce an Article
of his Faith; whereas the 'Teſts are natters
purely Political: They were promoted by a Fac-
tion, and deſigned only to gratifie a Party, mbich
is pleaſed to call it ſelf the Church of England.
Dif. Hold there, Harry; theſe Words are
fomething too fevere: let me tell you, you
cannot make the enacting of thefe Lamps to be
the Buſineſs of a Faction, without putting the
late King and his Parliament at the very Head
on't; and it does not become you to ſpeak fo
Irreverently of a Crowned Head, tho' it lies in
Afhes. But fuppoſe a Man fhou'd believe in
this Conſcience, that the Teſts are a great Se-
curity to the Protestant Religion, and that the
Conſequence of repealing then will be the in-
troducing of Popery; (as I muſt neceffarily
think of thofe many Noble and Worthy Gen-
tlemen, who lately loft there Employments
upon this very Queſtion) is not the turning of
)
fúch a one out of his Office, which perhaps is
his whole Subliftence, for not conſenting to re-
peat thoſe Tests, not only a privative, but, ac-.
cording to your wife Diſtinction, a poſitive in-
fičting of Penalties on the ſcore of Conſcience
(Occur.
Dialogues on the Times.
131
Occur. Numb. 9.) For is not he, that thinks
his whole Religion to be in danger, as much
concerned in his Conſcience, as another that
is ſo tender of no fingle Article
Har. But thefe are groundleſs Apprehenfions,
the Proteftant Religion will be fecure without
theſe Tefts; and I have over and over proved
they are but Mud-walls. Surely you have never
feen my Occurrences.
Diſ. Ay, that I have, and at the ſame time
that I could laugh at your Jeſts, I was offend-
ed at your Scurrilities: And now you put me
in mind, I have ſeen your Pacquet of Advice
from Rome too: There I remeinber you ſay,
That no mortal Man can embrace or countenance
the Popiſh Religion, but either a deſigning
Knave, or 4 cajoľd ſelf willd Fool (Pacq. Vol. 3.
p. 15. ) Now I cannot believe that you look
upon either of theſe Characters to be very
honourable.
Har. I wou'd have the Papiſts be admitted
into Offices, as well as other Subjects; and
they may ſometimes happen to have better Abilities
to ſerve their King and Country, than thiſe that
would excuſe them. (Occur. Numb...)
Pip. Certainly, Harry, thou art made up
either of Knavery or Forgetfulneſs; tho'. I anr
afraid Knavery is the chief Ingredient in thy
Compoſition. Have not you ſaid in your Pac-
quet, that you cou'd wiſh we were fairly rid of
Two and Fifty Thouſand Papifts, and yet you bem
liç ved, durit undertake to prove the King Mould
not
132 Dialogues on the Times.
not looſe one good Subject by the Bargain? (Pacq.
Vol. 3. p. 143. )
Har. You ſhou'd not fo ſpightfully recollect
my former Opinions, you ſhould conſider not
ſo much my old Faults as my preſent Arguments;
and if my Carriage, at this time, may make
you entertain any hard Thoughts of my Perſon :
Tho' you may not believe the Man, yet I
hope you will be convinced by his Reaſon.
Dil. Why, truly, whenever I fee'a Fore-
head of Braſs, I am apt to believe that what is
within is of no better Metal. _To be almays
falſe and ſhifting, is methinksa Teniper fo mean
and creeping, ſo very like the Race of the
Serpent, that to be overcome by ſuch a
one's Inſinuation, is not to be perſuaded but
betrayed.
Har. Is it not unreaſonable that the Papiſts
Mould be debarred of thoſe Priviledges and Ad-
vantages which they are born to? And ſince they
are under an equal Obligation of Duty with other
Subjects, why ſhould not they have the ſame Right?
as 'tis in other countries, where Proteſtants
and Papiſts have an equal ſhare in the Govern-
ment. (Occur. Numb. 9.)
Dili Prithee fhew me but one Country
where there are but four Papiſts to one Proteſ-
tant, and the Proteſtants allowed to enjoy.
equal Priviledges with the Papiſts: If this can-
not be done, why then ſhould the Papiſts of
our Nation look upon it as unequal dealing in
this Government, to keep them from Offices,
when their Number is not as yet, perhaps,
above
Dialogues on the Times.
133
above one in two hundred? unleſs they aſſume
ſome extraordinary Priviledges to their Perſons,
as well as their Religion, and pretend that
their very Civil Rights are Catholick.
Har. But theſe Teft-Laws are unjuſt: They
* ſet up an Inquiſition into Mens Thoughts, put their
Souls on the Rack; so that a Papiſt muft either
Starve, or violate his Conſeience. (ibid.)
Diſ. I perceive, Harry, your Compaſſion
leans niuch on the Popiſh Side; and you do
not ſeem much concerned, whether a Proteſ-
tant dies in his Bed, or on a Dunghil; for if
the Loſs of Imployments be an infallible Symp-
tom of Å arving, I am afraid there will be
found of late more Church-of-England-Men put
into thoſe uneaſy Circumſtances, than there
are are Papiſts of any Note in the whole Na-
tion. And ſince you would perſuade us, that
the grand Project is to employ all Men equally,
without any regard to their Perſuaſions; me-
thinks it does not at all become you, in Po-
licy, to give ſuch early Inſtances of Partiality.
Har. Are not there Church-of-England-Men
preferred as well as other Men? Do not you
ſee them daily made Deans, and Biſhops, &c.
Dil. So I have ſeen Bulls and Bears wear
Topknots; but I preſume they would never
have gone to the expence of adorning the Brutes,
were it not on purpoſe to expoſe the Faſhion.
Prithee, Harry, there are Knaves of all Perſua-
fions, and the Church as well as the Barn
breeds Vermin.
2
Har
134
Dialogues on the Times.
8
Har. Why are you ſo much afraid of Papiſts
being put into publick Employments; I'll af
fure you, they are not fuch Men as you do
imagine; and whofoever fays they are bloody
and cruel, foufly mifrepreſents them, and does
not draw them in their proper Colours.
Dil. Pray, Harry, how long have you had
fuch a favourable Opinion of their good Na-
ture? What, are all the holy Candles out, that you
formerly told us were made of Proteftant Greafe
at the Iriſh Maſſacre ? (Pacq. Nov. 19. 1680.)
Are there no Popifh Fires but that which burnt
the City ? Or have the French Proteſtants, think
you, left their Eftates, and come over only for
the Advantage of a Collection? Theſe are too
bitter things, Harry, to be fo eaſily digeſted:
And if I be not niuch miftaken, I can Mew
you that fonte of them are bound by Oaths to
give Hereticks no better Quarter.
Har. Surely there is no ſuch thing.
Diſ. I do affure you I had it from a very
fubftantial Author.
Har. Pray, who is it? I'll warrant you one
of our Modern Miſrepreſenters.
Dij. No, I'll aſſure you I had it front the
worthy Author of the Pacquet of Advice from
Rome; and, certainly, he muſt needs know
beſt what was done there, where he kept his
weekly Correfpondence: 'Tis the Oath which
all Popiſh Biops take at the time of their
Conſecration. My Author has it at large, but
I ſhall here only give you the Clauſe of it: And
will Hereticks, Schiſmaticks, and ſuch as rebel a-
gains
Dialogues on the Times.
135
gainit our Lord the Pope, or his Succeffors, I shalt,
to the utter
most of my Power, perfecute, impugns
and condenen, So help me, &c. (Pacq. Jan. 30.
3679.)
Her. And does not the Church of England,
with her Penal Laws, come upon you and your
Brethren with the fame Severities?
Dil. Pray where is a Church better ſeen than
in her Articles and Canons ?. And if theſe are to
be looked upon as the Standards of her Do&rine,
to give the Church of England her due, the, in
her 66th Canon, requires her Biſhops and Mie
nifters to endeavour, by Inſtruction and Per.
fuafion, to reclaint all Recuſants within their
reſpective Limits: And if ſome of her Com-
munion did put the Laws in Execution againſt
us with too much Rigoar, the preſent Promos
tion of feveral of thoſe Inftruments of our Mi,
feries would tempt a Man to believe, that what
they did was not fo much out of Miftake, as by
Order.
Har. But now you have a Commiſſion to
enquire into what Money was taken from you.
upon the account of your Religion; and ſo
in fome meaſure, you may make your felvés
whole again.
Dil. Prithee, Harry, why doſt not fend us
to the Spaniſh Wreck to dive for Gold and Sil-
ver? On my Conſcience, I believe, it would
be to as much purpoſe. If you will procure
us all that was returned into the Excbequer,
that will indeed encourage and enable us to fue
for the reſt, and, furely, you do not think
that
136 Dialogues on the Times.
that the Exchequer ought to thrive by Oppres-
fion, no more than a private Gentleman's Pocket.
Har. If you conſent to take off the Teſt,
you do not know what may be done for you
;
and, methinks, you of all People Thould be
ready to comply, ſince you are ſo much obliged
for the Toleration: And, you know, one good
Turn always requires another.
Dif. Suppoſe the Church-of-England - Men
had complied to take off the Tefts, doſt think
then we would have been ſuch Favourites I
find it was our Turn to be asked laſt: We have
fomething of Original Sin that ſtill ſticks to us;
and I am afraid, when Popery comes in, we
that have no Foundation, and are, as it were,
Strangers in the Land, muſt expect that this
Liberty will only encreaſe our future Task,
and put us further into the Houſe of Bondage.
Har. You fhall have a Magna Charta for Li-
berty of Conſcience, and that, you know, is,
like the Laws of the Medes and Perſians, un-
alterable.
Diſ. I muſt be a Fool by thy own Maxim,
if I believe thee; for have not you ſaid, in your
Pacquet, that he is only fit to be Recorder of
Gotham, who does not forſee, that if ever the
Papifts prevail, Magna Charta and the Bible
muſt down together. (Pacq. Nov. 21. 1679.)
But now, I think on't, how will this Magna
Charta, and the Magna Charta of the Council
of Lateran ſtand together? which is fo far from
giving Liberty of Conſcience, that it will not al-
Low Hereticks the common Priviledge of living
Har
Dialogues on the Times.
137
1
1
Har. Has not Sir Roger cleared that Diffi-
culty fufficiently? when he told you, That
when they are rightly diftinguiſhed, they may, very
well ſtand togetber; for the Degrees of the Church
of Rome are Religious, this Liberty you are offer-
ed is a Civil Point. (Anſwer to the Letter to
Diffenters, p. 7.)
Dil: Well, now I find true what I always
fufpečted, that this Liberty was grounded up-
ona Trick of State, and not upon Religious
Conviction of Judgment: So that when the
Government ſhall not ſtand in need of ſuch
Arts; that is, when Popery is too powerful to
fuhnit to fuch Condeſcenſións, we muſt
expect
to be thrown off, and ſink again into the State
of Suffering.
Har. I do affure you, it has been the conſtant
Judgment of Papiſts, that all Men ought to have
Liberty of Conſcience; and they are very ill
Men, and you ought not to join with them
who wou'd perſuade you to the contrary,
Diß. Divide impera, I know it's the Papiſts
Rule, as well as the Politicians. Prithee,
Harry, he that is but Eight and Twenty Years
old, has lived long enough to ſee their Methods
of deſtroying the Proteft ant Religion, and it is
moſtly by playing faſt and looſe with the
Diſenters. Sometimes the Diffenter is a Here-
tick and a Rebel, and all the Cry muſt be,
Crucify him, Crucify him; at another time he is
all Innocence, What harm has he done? We'll
releaſe him, and let him go. Thus, by inter-
mittent Fits of Eafe and Rigour, they endeavour
to
138 Dialogues on the Times.
to fhake and undermine that Foundation,
againſt which their Arguments have not Strength
to prevail.
Har. But this Indulgence was fo frankly offer-
ed you, that you cannot chooſe but make
ſuitable Returns for ſuch unexpected Civilities.
Dil. Profered Service in fome Cafes is not
only unacceptable, but nauſeous : For when all
the Arguments of Reaſon and Religion could not
prevail; to find an unexpected Fit of Affection,
makes the Kindneſs fomething ſuſpicious, and
all the endearing Expreſlions may proceed not
fo much from Love as Diffimulation, a Politick
Deſign may be in the bottom, and a Snake may
lie in the Grafs, that looks fo freſh and flou-
riſhing.
Har. I find you ſtill continue in your ground-
leſs fufpicion of the Papiſt : Méthinks they are
the moſt reaſonable Men alive; for if they do
repeal your Laws, they promiſe you Equipollent
Securities.
Diff. I muſt tell you, Harry, the Papifts are
the worſt Men in the World to pretend to in.
ſure the Proteft ant Religion from Fire and Fag-
got: Their Love to Hereticks, we know, is ge-
nerally hot and flaming, and 'tis rarely that a-
ny of them vouchſafe to kiſs, but when 'tis to
bring in others that come with Swords and
Staves. And what is this Equipolent Security
to ? an At of Parliament.
Har. Yes, but fuch and Act that ſhall be un-
alterable, and not in the power of future ages
to revoke.
Diß.
Dialogues on the Times.
139
Dif. Hold, not ſo faſt there, you will ruin the
Difpenking Power elſe; for if the King may not fuf-
pend that Ad too at pleaſure, what will become of
thoſe Offices, who have made to bold with the Law's.
in being ? for the conlequence muft reach all Acts
alike,
Har. Ay, but theſe Tefts are in their nature unjuſt,
and dangerous to the Government in their conſequena
ces : and ſo no matter what becomes of thein,
Dill. And will not that Law, think you, be un-
juft, which cramps the King's Natural and Inherent
Right of ſuſpending Acts of Parliament? ſo that this
Law, or the mighty Prerogative of ſuspending, im-
mediately falls to the ground : And which do you
think will moſt likely get the better on't? Beſides,
that Law, if it be Equipollent, wuft exclude all Re-
miſh Prieſts from Officiating in any Publick Church
or Chappel within the Kingdom: Now if it be, ac-
cording to you, fo impious to exclude Papifts from
ſerving the King in publick Office; what a monſtrous
piece of impiety will Popiſh Judges interpret that
Law to be, which excludes the Prieſts from ſerving
God in his publick Worſhip? and therefore the ap.
parent Conſequence of repealing our Laws to me
will be thus, that hereafter we hall have all Popiſh
Governours both in Church and State; and to us
will be left the Merit of Obedience, and the Glory
of Suffering; only I am afraid we fall much eclipſe
that Glory, upon fome melancholy Confiderations
that we have had a hand in our own Execution.
Har. Well, I perceive you will not give me a Ca-
tegorical anſwer to my Queſtion. You will bave the
lame more formally put to you e'er long, and I do
not doubt when you have taken time to conſider, but
you will return a very ſatisfactory Anſwer.
Dil
140 On the Death of his Miſtreſs.
Dil To be ſhort with you then, the Sum of my
Opinion is this, That I conſider my ſelf as an Eng-
liſhman, as well as a Proteſtant; and whatever, I
conceive, may dire&ly, or by Conſequence, prejudice
my Religion or Civil Rights, I think my ſelf obliged
not to conſent to it, as I am to anſwer it to GOD:
my COUNTRY. So Farewel.
and
To a Friend in the Country, on the
Death of bis Miſtreſs.
Vinegar-Tard, fan. 21. 1702.
Dear Jacky,
Am ſorry to be the Meſſenger of il
News to you (for to a Perſon of your
I
Tenderneſs, I know it muft be very
unwelcome :) however, ſince it muft
arrive to you by ſome other hand, tho
I ſhould take never ſo much Care to conceal it from
you; I thought my ſelf concerned, in point of
Friendſhip, to communicate it to you ; and at the
fame time to endeavour to give you all the ſmall
Comfort I was capable of. Be pleasd therefore to
know that a dear Friend, and old Acquaintance of
yours, to the great Affliction of all that knew her,
is It goes to the very Heart of me to tell this...-
defunct, and dead, and gone, the way ſhe knew
fo well, I mean the way of all Fleſh.
For your
Conſolation, ſhe died a Member of the Eftabliſhed
Church (and this I muſt add in her Praiſe, that e-
ver
a
)
On the Death of bis Miſtreſs. 141
ver ſince ſhe knew what was what, ſhe was exceed-
ingly zealous for the Eftabliſhment) and nothing
grieved her ſo inuch, that the muft leave this
World before the Occaſional Bill paft, before you
could come to cloſe her dying Eyes. The Curate of
St. Giles's prayed very fervently two Hours with
her, after which ſhe called for a Glaſs of cool
Nantz, and drank a Health to the beft (and here
her Tongue begun to faulter) but afterwards the
faintly added, in Chriſtendom. All the Standers-by
had ſo much Charity, as to believe ſhe meant the
Church. If you give your ſelf the Trouble to turn
over the Leaf, you'll not only find the dear Perſon's
Name, and what Diſtemper ſhe died of, but a ſmall
Poetical Cordial by way of Epitaph.
Your unknown Friend,
N. B
కుంకుడికి తన
An EPITAPH upon
upon the charmi
ing PEGGY.
Nder this Marble Peggy lies,
Who did fo often ſpread her Thighs,
And made Philander's Courage riſe.
fe
This Morſel of delicious Luft,
That kiſs'd with ſo ſincere a Guft,
Is now refoly'd to common Duft.
a
Her
142
An Epitaph repon Peggy.
Her Hands (forgive me if I am blunt)
Will now no more, as they were wont
Pilot Loves Sailors to her
Her Limbs, that us'd to move fo nice,
And täfte Loves Pleaſures in a trice,
Are now, alas ! as cold as Ice.
To tell the Truth, as fhort as can be
She killd her ſelf with drinking Brandy,
And all for her dear Jack-a-Dandy.
Thus did dur charming Nymph expire,
According to her Heart's Delire,
And as the liv'd, fe dy'd by Fire.
He&or, my Boy, of thee I beg
Not to forget the illuſtrious Peg,
But o'er her Tomb lift up thy Leg.
Then piſs fuch Deluges of Rain,
In fo exuberant a Strain,
Asthall d'erflow the World again.
This Tribute's to her Afhes due,
Whoſe Loſs ten thouſand Youths will rue;
And ſo, immortal Peg, adieu.
* The Name of his Daniſh Dog
ON
a
143
On the Death of the Duke of
GLOUCESTER.
By Mr. BROWN.
OR Glouceſter's Death, which fadly we de .
(plore,
Though Fate's accuſed, we ſhould com-
(mend it more i
Left he with Burnet's Faith ſhould be imbrued,
Or learn of Truth or Gratitude :
Left two ſuch Maſters ſhould their Rules inſtil,
And his young Soul with poifonous Precepts filt.
Untimely Fate Heaven tiinely did employ,
And to preſerve the Man, deſtroy'd the Boy.
¿
en esta oportu
An
144
0086
An EPITAPH upon Dr. Bur-
net, late Biſhop of Salisbury.
By the Same.
ER E old Sarum lies,
As great as wife,
And learned as Tom Aquinas;
Lawn-Sleeves he wore,
And yet no more
A Chriftian than Socinus.
Oaths Pro & Con
He ſwallow'd down,
Took Fees like any Layman;
Read, preachd, and pray'd,
And yet betrayd
God's Holy Word for Mammon.
Of every Vice
He had a Spice
Tho'a renowned Prelate ;
Yet liv'd and dy'd,
If not bely'd,
A true Diffenting Zealot :
If ſuch a Soul,
To Heav'n is ſtole,
And eſcaped old Satan's Clutches ;
We'll then preſume,
There may be room
For.
A Legacy
( 145 )
GS
ALTAT
A Legacy for the Ladies :
OR,
CHARACTERS
OF THE
Women of the Age.
法​步法​※※※※※※※※※※茂​※※※※※※※※※※徐​※※※
By Mr. Tho. Brown.
******************
※※※※※※※※※
The Character of a Wanton Woman.
RHAT which we call Gallantry, is a
fond Reliſh of the World, and of
T
its Pleaſures in general ; and this
Spirit is born with the Female Sex.
Their natural Temper contributes
much to Foppery ; but their Éųucation confirms
it, and ſo renders the Folly entire, Civility
'VOL.
H
indeed
145 The CHARACTER of:
indeed polifhes it, and this is the beſt Mi
Atreſs beſtowed upon it. By I know not what
unhapry Fare, the very Care that Art takes
of that Sex's Perfections deſtroys it : So foon
as a Girl learns to ſpeak, the is taught fretty
Things, but few that are ufiful: Her firſt
Steps are directed for Dancing, and to avoid the
Trouble and Labour of making her a: Vertãous
Perſon, her Friends are contented to make her
a Fine Woman; the is only taught the Art of
Pleaſing, but not of Living well.
People wonder now-a-Days at the looſe Be
haviour and Wantonneſs of Women; for my
part, I wonder as much at them; for what can
they expect of Perſons thus educated ? Their
natural Diſpoſitions incline them to a ſoft and
eaſy Life, and to agreeable Things : Their
Beauty creates Self-Love; and inftead of de-
froying this effeminate Tendeny. they are
ſupply'd with divers modifh Vices, that
ſtrengthen the ill Habit, and make 'em only
take the more Delight in it.
A young Woman knows her Religion only
by her Catechiſm, the Sciences only by Name,
and Vertue only in Hea. She nnderſtands Mua
fick to a Nicety, but knows nothing of the real
and good Intentions of it. She plays at all forts
of Games, and reads no other Books but what
are fitter to corrupt than inſtruct her. And
what will be the Conſequence of this firft
Miſmanagement ? An Averfion to all that is
Good, for want of knowing what it is ; a Dir.
like of commendable Things, for want of un-
derſtanding them, and a Spirit of Contempt
and
a WANTON WOMAN.
147
11
i
J
and Envy, produc'd by Ignorance, which makes
thofe Women, who know nothing, but what
the her ſelf is, and is poffeffed, but with what
ſhe knows her felf, gives up her whole Time
to the Care of Pleaſing, and beſtows all her
Praiſes on her own Maxims. Theſe are the
Conſequences of miſemploy'd Youth, which has
receiv'd no other Inſtructions but ſuch as make
it'ſtill the more in Love with it ſelf, and leſs
acquainted with it ſelf, It frames a Scheme
of Perfe&tions ſuitable to its own proper Pa-
late, and the Cuſtom of the Ages: It is from
ſuch Models that Women take a Draught of
their Conduct and A&tions ; and the Reſult of
all this is an unhappy tho general Confufi-
on in their Underſtanding and Deportment.
Vanity is ſo imprinted in the Minds of Wo-
*men, that nothing leſs than a ſupernatural
Hand can totally efface it. It is a prudent In-
tention to deprive them of the Senſe of true
Knowledge, but an ill Effect is all the Fruit of
that good Dehgn; to prevent their falling into
the Pride of the Half-learned, they are led in-
to the Paths of Ignorance, Pride, and Affetta,
tion; and firmly believe that to underſtand
the World, is in them as great a Talent, as
the profoundeft Learning in Men; and that
their Perfections conſiſt in nothing more, than
in being skill'd in the Ways of pleafing Men ;
and therefore they make it their whole Ap-
plication. A Woman reads with no other De-
Tign, than but to inform her ſelf of others
Intriegues, and from thence to know better
how to manage her own : She dreſſes her ſelf,
; ܐ
H 2
not
148 The CHARACTER of
a
not with an Intention to be more Charming,
but to charm more Men; and think it a Dimi
nution to their Beauty, to make but one
Conqueſt, tho it be never fo.conſiderable ;
and deſign not to fix themſelves inviolably on
One, but to gain Many, being much better
pleas'd in the Croud of their Lovers, than
with the Reality of Love.
They ſtudy their Looks, (many of their
Charms being but the Convulfions of their Eyes)
and which agrees beſt with them they prefer;
and all this is manag’d with a wonderful Art :
They frequently add with Deſign to their
Charms that which Nature had refus'd them
with Juſtice. Finally, they conſult all the pre-
external Advantages, in order to attract Love;
and theſe Deſigns are of ſo large an Extent,
that they no ſooner find they pleaſe one Sube
ject, but they are ready to pleaſe others alſo ;
and every new Conqueſt inflames 'em ſtill with
a Deſire of extending their Victories yet far-
ther; and the Vanity of their Deſires conti-
nues,
tho’ the Power to pleaſe has been long
ſince extinguiſh'd.
The Employment of a vain Woman is very
ſingular ; fhe is idle, tho' perpetually in A&i-
on: From Morning till Night their Thoughts
are on what they love ; they ſpeak to all they
meet, tho' they have nothing to ſay to 'em :
The "Exterior of Acquaintance is all they aim
and affect Familiarity, to be thought wor-
thy of Friendſhip. As they Chatter only to
prevent the Cenſure of Stupidity, ſo the Lupdog,
Monkey, and Squirril, are as copious Subjects of
at;
'cheir
à WANTON WOMAN. 149
1.
:
their: Wit and Railery, as any of the Neigh.
bours, as frequent Objects of their tendereft
Carelles, their moſt endearing Language, and
their moſt ſolid Satisfaction. Their Ignorance
neceſlirates 'em to this ridiculous Diverſion;
for as they admire nothing but themſelves, ſo
-virtuous Converſation wou'd put 'em out of
Countenance, and a ſerious Reflection make
em Difructed.
But, alas! their Condut reſts 110t here, in
Time that continual Idleneſs grows tedious ;
yer being unwilling to Thake it quite off, and
in the room of: it take ſome profilalle Em-
*ployment unknown to them, they indulge
themſelves in irregular Delires, and this
leads them to baſe and dangerous Attempts.
- The Affections of their Hearts being the Rule
they go by, they employ their whole Minds
in the Satisfaction they procure to themſelves;
and fhutting their Ears to the Voice of Duty
and Reaſon, they ftudy but to pleaſe their
predominant Paffions, and to render their Minds
the Inſtruments of the Diſorders of their
Hearts: For as they have an equal Share of
natural Parts with the Men, (only with this
Difference, that they are not ſo rightly appli-
ed) the witty Wanton pleaſes more, deceives
much better, and is not one Grain the more
improv'd by it ; for Wit is the moſt dangerous
Weapon when ill applied, and taken off of
good and worthy Subjects, to exerciſe ſuch vi-
cious Uſes as perverts it.
Yet this is what moſt Women do; a quick Ap-
prehenſion ſerves but to render them more
incon-
:
.
<
H 3
150 The CHARACTER of
inconſtant : Solidity makes-them more Crafty;
Peņeçration makes them more Satyrical, and all
thoſe Defeets make them more Proud, and
filter Objects of our Scom and Contempty.
which is the only juſt Reward of their imagi-
nary Merits. They are commonly valued pro-
portionable to the Duration of their Affecti-
ons, that is, for a Moment. Their Beauties
ſurpriſe us, their Wit engages us, and their
Defects drive us away again. A Thouſand
pleaſing Toys draw Men to them, and as ma-
ny Reaſons make them to be avoided by 'em;
Voluptuouſneſs intices Men on again, and
Wifdom perſwades him to make no Stay with
them, and to make Men to entertain them
more through Fiattery than real Application.
A wanton or loofe Woman runs her felf in-
to all ſorts of Extreams; Prodigality accompa
nies all her Expences, and Covetoufrefs attends
all her Frugality; for Virtue having no Share
in her Conduct, fhe can never entertain a juft
Medium in any 'Thing. If the Loves, tho' but
for a Minute, it borders upon Fury. If fhe
Hates, it will laſt longer, I confeſs, but, fooner
or later, always terminates in Revenge. If the
Wifhes, it is with infatiable Deſires. If the
Fears, her Apprehenfions are without Bounds.
Yet, notwithſtanding this prodigious Heap of
dreadful Qualities, ſhe is pleaſing; and her
Air, her Ways, her Beauty, c. feduce Men,
and enflaves them to their falſe Merits. But
in Requital, a Woman frequently pays fevere-
ly for thofe Impofitions, and the Love the in-
fpires; for it being wholly grounded on Inte-
seſta
a WANTON WOMAN. 158
"
reſt, as its Cauſe, commonly it happens, that
the Fruit of ſuch Commerce is the Mine of
the Man's Fortue ſometimes, but always of
the Woman's Reputation; and as the has not:
render'd the Man really happy; neither has he
increas'd much her Riches, and being both difa-
guſted of their Familiarity, they thare betwixt
them Sorrow and Regret, which are the uſual
Reſults of a wild illegitimate Paſſions Serie
ouſly, if thoſe light Women did but once exa-
mine their Conduct with ſome Grains of Rea.
fon, they would not complain of any Misforo
tune that happen'd to them, but employ theme
felves to correct thofe Defects; and the their
natural Tendency, their ill Education; and
their bad Habits, muft render the Change of
their Manners very difficult ; yet by Degrees
however they would attain to a true Reliſh of
good' Things. Religion and Honout would
no longer prove defective; the Satisfaction of
being efteem'd and rightly valued would fuc-
ceed in the place of Pleafing; for Virçue is ho-
nour'd wherever it is found, whether preſervd
by Wiſdom, or reftor'd by Reaſon, and with
Juſtice they would obtain that Reſpect, Value,
and Efteem, which is refus'd them on any other
Terms, while they are thus advis'd. Ler Mo-
defty inſtruct them alſo, if they are willing to
embrace her Dictates.
1
Ha
Tbe
152
The CHARACTER of.
EOS
Tbe Modeſt Woman.
;
HERE are Duties of Honour, as
well as Religion, and it is in thoſe
T
that Mod fly gives us the beſt Leſſons
it requires that all the Actions of
Women be accompany'd with De-
cency; that they be born bathful, live with
Circumſpection, and die with Wiſdom ; that
their youthful Days be adorn'd with 'Inno-
cence, their riper Years be endow'd with Puri-
ty, and that their whole Conduct conclude
with an happy and laudable Simplicity.
Modeſty is not moroſe ; that which it pre-
ſcribes is juſt and natural; it requires but Re.
gularity and Perfection, and whoever rejects
her, abandons Honour and Virtue. When a
Woman, whoſe Heart is affected with worldly
Pleaſures, abandons, the Rules that Modeſty
preſcribes, wherein Honour reſts ſecure, ſhe is
foon made ſenſible of the Dangers wherein
her Negligence has led her; and her beſt Courſe
is, to haften her Return into the forſaken Path
that her natural Conftitution inclin'd her to
leave.
There
a MODEST WOMAN.
153
.
There are fome Inclinations ſo excellent, as
to put us on our Duties without Reluctancy
but ſuch a natural Propenſity is very rare, and
there are but very few Minds endow'd with ſo
happy a Temper, without Information, and
that walk in the Paths of Virtue, without any
other Guide than their own Reaſon.
It is only to thoſe Women, to whom na-
tural Weakneſs, Tendency, and Opportunity,
appear invincible Obſtacles, that Modeſty gives
Rules. It requires, that an habitual and mo-
deft external Behaviour ſuppreſs thoſe unruly
Motions of the Mind, that are bred by Self-
love, that an evil Example may touch, but not
move. That Beauty adorn without Flattery;
that Joy never appear without a Reſtraint, and
that it be more eaſy to be inſtructed than
pleas'd. For a Woman, that makes her Duty
her Study, has leſs Regard to her own Worth,
than to the Means of becoming worthier; and
as ſhe is poſſeſs'd with a Delire to Learning
The is not contented with the bare Idra of
Knowing ; ſhe is more apt to judge herſelf
;
guilty of an Error, than Praiſe-worthy for any
good Action. This is that happy Application,
that is produc'd by Fear and Deſire, unto which
a Woman ſhould give her ſelf entirely up;
then would that Tendency the ſtill retains
for vainer Things foon vaniſh, when the
begins to taſte the Sweets of Good; for the
chief Difficulty of Perfection, proceeds from a
certain Tireſömneſs we find' in 'perlevering
in gaul Manners., To cure the Diſorders of
the Mind, there is requir'd a regular, wile,
H5
and
a
154
The CHARACTER of
а
and modef Conduct, that never varies : It is
very difficult for a vicious Mind to juſtify its
a
Character againft à vertuous Regularity, and
a ſpontaneous Reſervedneſs. His Perfeverance
in good Actions, that Modeſty impofes Laws.
As the Firmneſs of a good Reſolution makes
a Man's Merit, the Continuance of a diſcreet
Conduct makes the Praiſe of a Woman's ; for
it is as difficult for a Woman never to ſtep
out of the Way of her Duty, either through
her own Temper, or through ſome tempting
Occaſion, as it is difficult for a Man never to
alter his Opinion, either through Pallion or
Neceſſity; but the Way to attain to that noble
Conſtancy is by Modeſty, which renders it
profitable, when it reſtrains the too great Free-
dom that' Youth ufurps, the great Familiarity
of pleaſant Illecebrations, the great continual
Frequentation of Balls and Feaſts; and for a
more particular Difference of her Will, when
the denies herfelf all that does oppofe a noble
Regularity, fuch a one as requires a Woman
not to lend an Ear to doubtful Expreſſions, to
ambiguous Ways of ſpeaking on certain Mata
ters of Gallantry, nor to diſcourſe with certain
forts of Perſons. No Looks beyond their Limits;
Regard muſt be had to Time and Place, to give
a Looſe to ones Eyes ; no loud or ſudden Laugh-
ter muft break forth, and the Subject that
tempts it muf be common in its Effects ; no
looſe and eaſy Poſture, tho' Conveniency may
invite them to it; no new Ways of Dreſſes;
no Matches of Diverſion in Maſquerade ; no
Friends, but ſuch as are wiſe; no Enemies
buc
?
a MODEST WOMAN.
155
But the Wicked. Finally, no Eyes for her
own Virtues, nor Ears, nor Tongue for her
own Praiſes. This is the right Way to begin.
a glorious Life, and to continue it without
Cenſure, and I'may ſay too without Envy, but
not without Satisfaction and Pleafure.
But the greateſt Part of Women want thefs
Means; and the Courfes they commonly take,
are neither ſuch as Honour dictates, or Mo-
deſty requires. Theſe being oppoſite to Vani-
ty and Voluptuouſneſs, a Woman rather
chuſes to abate of her Modeſty, than to retrench
any Thing of her Self-love : That is the Caufe
the lays not afide ſo many Circumſtances of
Ceremonies, ſo many Niceties, which are cona
demn’d by Modefty; as Conferences with fin-
gle Men, a nice Examination of Mens external
Parts, the Preheminence in Aſſemblies, the Ac-
counts given of her own Inclinations, her dili-
gent Examination of others Humours, her Fa-
cility in blaming, her Difficulty to approve,
and the Liberty ſhe takes to impoſe, order, and
command People in Places, and on ſuch Things
which have not been committed to her Care.
If a Woman was but an exact Performer of hör
incumbent Duties, ſhe would not be ſo apt to
ſet herſelf forth in publick, nor bę fo peeviſh at
Home : Modeſty would incline her to embrace
Retiredneſs; the would be ſenſible of the Con-
tentments that Solitude and Privacy affords,
and would dread the Troubles and Inconveni
cncies that Tumults and Confuſions bring along
with them. It is in ſuch Hurry, that we are
apt to flip into Irregularities ; great Companies
diftract
756 The CHARACTER of
diftra& us even to Forgetfulneſs, and the ſeve
reſtReſtraint deſtroys itſelf by frequentMeetings,
and when a Woman is accuſtom'd to the Sight
of new Faces : For Women love to be flatter'd,
which is moſt uſed by thoſe that have the
Jeaft Acquaintance with them. The Want of
knowing their Imperfections is the Reaſon that
they are more readily prais'd ; but this Incenſe,
ſo pleaſing to their Self-love, cauſes them to be
flighted in divers Reſpects, and there common-
ly are to the flattering Approbation of one fin-
gle Perſon, an hundred Defects that are ob-
vious to all the World beſides.
When once a Woman is ſo far infatuated
with Self-love, as to fhake Hands with her
Modeſty, ſhe becomes the moſt dangerous and
ungovernable Monſter that is ; her Pride puts
every A&tion, every Word, nay, every Inci-
dent and Circumſtance, how minute ſo ever,
into falſe Lights : Every uncommon Civility
fhe looks upon as Adoration, and the moſt
notorious Flattery for Truth.. She is violent in
all the fays or does; her Eſteem is but fhort,
her Hatred implacable : A dubious Anfwer fhé
thinks Contumely; a cold Salute, an unpar-
donable Affront: Nothing can be right, but
what bears the Stamp of her Approbation ; 110
Perfon well bred, but what pay their Homage
to her. To offer to take the Upper-hand of
her, is a mortal Sin ; her arrogant Looks
Brow.beat her Equals ; and her haughty Car-
riage ſpurns her Inferiours. Thoſe whom a
diſtinguiſh'd Rank place above her, ſhe ſhuns
more than the Plague ; and even her Pride
makes
à MODEST WOMAN. 157
makes her glorious Amends, for ſhe believes
her Accompliſhments merit that Grandeur
which the others poſſeſs ; nor will ſhe allow
it them, but as conferr'd upon 'em, not only
únſeafonably, but even by a meer Miſtake too,
Whatever Obligation the receives, the takes
it as a Debt paid, not a Favour conferr'd, be-
cauſe her Pride will not let her own ſhe ſtood
in Need of any Body. She forgets her Duties
towards her Neighbours, and her Pride con-
ceals from her thoſe Obligations fhe has to
others; ſo that attributing to herſelf, through
an ill grounded Opinion of her own Worth,
thofe Honours and Reſpects that the deſerves
not, ſhe has no Regard for any Thing but here
felf, and neglects all thoſe Duties which Mo-
defty directs her to perform towards others.
You'll frequently ſee her fail in the common
Civilities uſed at Meetings, in the converſing
Part, and at the taking Leave; not regarding
that the Infractions of the Laws of Civility fre-
quently turn to the Deſtruction of Charity, and
that there is but very little Diſtance betwixt
Diſſatisfaction and Hatred. Therefore a ra-
tional Woman is of an accompliſh'd Exactneſs
in the meaneſt Duties that Modeſty and Ci-
vility requires in Relation to others; and bid-
ding Adieu to Foppery, ſhe wholly applies her
ſelf fo to order her Conduct, as that it may
be blameleſs as well in the meaneſt as in the
greateſt Things.
4
458
The CHARACTER of
w
A pretended Godly Woman.
Falſe Devotion is the moft dange
rous of all Crimes, and the moſt com
А
mon of all Defects ; ſometimes Men
uſe it for Reaſons of State and Inte
reſt, but Women commonly on the
Account of Pride and Self-love. A falſe Piety
has divers Motives that engage Women on its
Part; it is eaſy, fortunate, and very ſucceſsful
There is frequently no Occaſion to change
Maxims, to ſtep from a moſt licencious Life,
to that which may appear the moſt retir'd ; it
is but ſhifting our Habits, and then all thore
Things that were deny'd to our Pleaſures be-
fore, become ſaitable to our Deſires. Expe.
rience fers this fo frequently before our Eyes,
that we cannot wonder at the good Fortune of
a great Number of Bigots of this Age. A
Woman born with good Inclinations, educat-
cd in good Principles, that would live in the
Freedom of agreeable Societies, and yet retain
the Character of Wiſe, needs but one Thing
to compare both at once. Hypocriſy will ſoon
find
a GODLY WOMAN. 159
find her out a Way to reconcile God and the
World together, and to gratify her Self-love,
without Scandal to her Devotion. The World
is in a ſtrange Miſtake on the Account of Reli-
gion : The Learned conſider it in its moſt facred
Myſteries : The Vulgar in thoſe outward Shews
that it impoſes on them; and Women, in certain
Practices, which they propoſe to themſelves
as Laws, by which they regulate the Perfection
of their State. The Learned underland Relia
şion, the Vulgar believe it, and Women ſpoil
ir: For the firſt ſeek it, the ſecond follow it,
and the laſt counterfeit it.
Theſe Women buſy themſelves to pick out a
parcel of Maxims ſuitable to their own Incli-
nations, on which Choice they frame a Scheme
a
of their own; and the great Love they bear to
thoſe ſelected Virtus, cauſes them to neglect
all the others. It is 110 matter amongſt them,
whether ſuch or ſuch a Lady' is really Charitas
ble; fo the but appears to be a Lady of Charity.
The bare Outſide of Religion is ſufficient for
them ; no matter tho' the Inſide be quite op.
pofite to their Practices.
They value not much to omit Duties of
Obligations, provided the other Duties they
perfer to theſe, be not very guilty in them-
ſelves, and that there be but as much Room
left as will contain their Excuſes, or others
Praiſes of them. For it is the Property of falfe
Devotion, to imbue the Mind with Pride, and
make it pretend to Humility, while it is
drown'd in Oftentation; to undervalue and
deſpiſe fuch Things as are conſiderable incon
liderable
160 The CHARACTER of
ſiderable in themſelves and prize inconſiderable
Things, as if they were of great Moment. This
is the Secret the Devil makes Uſe of with Wo.
men; he makes them behold with Indifferency
the Precepts of Religion, while they are wholly
taken up with bare Scriptural Advices, and
that they employ all their Care Night and Day
to practiſe them. They will be very diligent
to correct themſelves of ſome fmall Defects,
and negligent in Matters highly criminal :
They need not fear to feel the Preſſure of Sing
while they are ignorant of the Light of Grace;
nor be concern'd that they apply themſelves
.
to ſuch trivial Things as ſuit beft their Chara-
Eters, while they neglect thoſe great Myſteries
ſo neceſſary to their Salvation.
Mean time, under the uſeful Veil of an
Holy Appeurance, they remain ſafe, and repair
in the Minds of People the ill Impreſſions that
any Diſorder may have made, only by changing
the Exterior, and adding Hypocrily to the reſt
of their Errors. By the laft Evil all the for- :
mer are blotted out, and hy a regular Outſide
they endeavour to perſuade that the Inward
is pure and innocent. What a ſtrange Error
. ,
it is, to judge of a Perſon's Conduct by a feem-
a
ing Devotion! Thoſe that juſtify a Bigot, are
more apt to be deceiv'd, than thoſe that con-
demn a Libertine.
A meer. Profeſſion is no good Caution of
Honour and Virtue. Thoſe that are moſt in-
lightned, are the leſs deceiv'd by thoſe out-
ward Grimaces, becauſe they moſt diſtruſt them;
and all Hypocrites are ſuſpected amongſt ra;
tional
a GODLT VOMAN. 161
;
tional Men. The Simple are deceiv'd by the
Hypocrites, but the Hypocrites are detected by
the Wife, who do not eaſily paſs by thoſe three
Charašters which Hypocrily impoſes on them,
ſo directly oppofite to the Love we owe to God,
and tº our Neighbour, namely, Pride, Cruelty,
and D ſimulation.
Through the Inſtigations of Pride, they aſſume
an Authority over all others that are not of
their Kidney, and ſome of them too are not
exempt from their Inſults ; eſpecially, if they
are not equal at leaſt to 'em in the reſpect of
the Congre ations and the Glories of an Exterior
Santtity. They uſurp a Right of Cenſuring all
the World, and make 'em fall fhört of their
own Devotion, only to have a larger Scope of
Backbiting, She robs her Family to fatten the
Sanctify'd Station, and Cuckolds her Huſband
in the Fear of the Lord : Five a Clock Pray
ers are her Delight, and an Evening Lecture
the happy Confummation of a Day well ſpent.
She is conſtant at Church, but 'tis to be ſeen
there ; and bitterly inveighs againſt the impi.
ous Lazineſs of the Ungodly Wretches that don't
come thither.
Tho'the Outſide appears fo demure, yet were
the Soul to be ſeen, Hell was mine A
to it : However, God be praiſed, their A ions
give us to underſtand, that it is a Mercy not to
ſee a Thing ſo frightful. Speak againſt her
* Teachers, and ſhe foams at the Mouth; pious
Furies dance in her Eyes, and two and twenty
Legions at least ſwell her "Breaſt : Damnation
is your Lot to be ſure ; and if it were not for
;
the
:
.
162 Tbe CHARACTER of
the Law, he would have the Lechery of Mara
dering you herſelf: For nothing is more cruel.
than an irritated Bigoto.
As for Diſſimulation, 'tis the Baſis of their
Religion; the formal Cant and Turning up of
the Eyes, the frequent Sighs and Sobbs, the
artificical Hum's and Ha's, the exegetical Mo-
tions of the Handkerchief and Mouth, are but
the Superſtructure and Decorations of the Hy-
pocritical Temple : By all theſe Audy'd Arts
they impoſe upon the unthinking Mob, and
exact, nay, ſometimes too, obtain freely a Rea.
putation and Character that is by no means in
the World their due.
As one of the Charms of Greatneſs and of
Riches, is that Reſpect and Deference which
they impofe ; fo one of the Afflictions of Mi.
fery, is the Contempt it draws upon itſelf. In-
. ..
ligency and Poverty blot out of weak Minds the
Advantage of a good Birth, the Splendor of
Merit, and the Beauty of Virtue. But if In-
juſtice raiſes Fortune to ſo high a Pitch, more
equitable Trub always leaves it in the loweſt
Rank; and that Trab which ſeems to enlight-
en the Bigots, is trod under Foot by their own
Cruelty. There is no barbarous Uſage which
they do not inflict on thoſe whom God has
viſited with Poverty ; Hunger, Thirft, and
Nakednefs, are the meaneſt Afiétions that pro..
ceed from their Cares: Backbiting, Slander, Cone
tempt, and Abufs, are the Conſequences of tha:
Zeul they pretend to have for their Neighbour.
When they are employ'd in the Relief of Faa
milies, and that a Paftar's Goodneſs, who
would
& GODLY WOMAN. 163
Hvould not have any of his Flock to ſuffer, em-
ploys them in the Exerciſe of the Duties of
Cbarity, they act very barbarouſly and baſe-
ly: He relies on thoſe pretended Zealous Souls,
whoſe exterior Pradices are exemplary, and
who fhew in Publick the Duties which they owe
God, but that little trouble themſelves in pri.
vate about thoſe due to their Neighbour. It
is according to the Tendency of their Hearts
that thofe Miſerables live or dye that are
committed to their Care. When they have
fome good Inclination towards any Body, and
that the humble Submiſſions of a Sufferer has
done Homage to their Pride, then they will
beſtow on him all that is neceſſary to allay his
Sufferings, but not to end themThey are
willing to mollify his Sorrow, to ſet forth their
own Goodneſs, and to take off only the Exceſs
of the Grief, to gain Praiſes, and to preſerve
their Tyrannical Power.
As their preſent Exerciſe of Charity makes
divers miferable Wretches great Sufferers, it
may alſo make them to ſuffer in their Turn at
the Great Day. And if Pride is the greateſt
Crince before God, where will not that Hypocri-
Sy bring them, fince it contains that Pride which
Offends neighbourly Love, and renders it guil.
ty of the Breach of the Lure in both its Pre-
cepts ? I muſt confeſs, that a Biget Woman is
ſo guilty, and has fo many Defects, that I must
not pretend to give a juft Account of them all :
I treat but of thofe annex'd to the Profeffed. The
Hatred they have for all Women that are not
dreſs’d after the HypocriticalMode is fo great,that
they
164 The CHARACTER of
they cannot indure them, altho they lead a
Life exempted from all Blame. They fancy it
is an horrid Crime to be adorn'd with ſuch
Ornainents as Birth and Eftáte allows of, as if
it was neceſſary that thoſe who are devoted to
God, ſhould begin their Reformation by put-
ting on of Sack-clath, which frequently ſerves
but to cover a greater Number of Sins, with-
out the Diſcovery of one Virtue. Let the Di-
ceits of a Linſy-Woolly Modeſty multiply in the
World, it will ſtill be certain that the large
Sleeves' conceal more the Hands than the CC-
vetoufreſs of the Wearers ; and that it is not
the B gots Dreſs that makes: Virtuous Women.
Mean time under that Habit they are apt to
condemn others confidently, while they fin
unpuniſh'd; they then raiſe themſelves above
all Cenfure, and whoever ſpeaks Truth on this
Subject, runs the Hazard of having Lies raiſed
on himſelf; for a falſe Piety cannot ſuffer to be
blam'd, tho' never ſo juftly, without returning
a Slander for it ; and the ordinary Confe-
quences of a Bigot's Anger, is, to ruin thoſe
that have blam'd her, tho' rightly. The most
excellent Wiſdom, even Fruth itſelf, Chriſt, did
condemn the Affectation or Singularity of Ap-
parel, when he blam'd the Phariſees in long
Robes and peculiar Fringes. He regarded not
their Accuſation of the Adultrefs Woman; he
condemn'd them when they offer'd to condemn
others. This was a Leffon of Providence, to in-
form ſuch as have Authority to protect thoſe
that are forfaken, and to correct thoſe who ac-
cuſe others, while they themſelves are guilty.
There
a GODLY WOMAN. 165
o
3
There are ſuch nice and dangerous Circuma
ſtances of Sin in Hypocriſy, that the Guilty fre-
quently remain ignorant of the Miſery of their
own Condition. A Woman of the CbaraEter I
am now ſetting forth, owns no other Neigh-
bour but thoſe of her own Profeſion: Whatever
they ſay or do, is poſitive in all Reſpects; and a
Bigot would make it a Scruple of Conſcience, to
doubt of a Slander that is hatch'd by one of
her own Tribe. By the Means of this Error,
ſhe deſpiſes all thoſe that have been accuſed,
and under the Pretence of reproving their Er.
rors, the publiſhes them every where : For
Slander is no Crime amongſt the Bigots ;. if they
but fancy they ſay the Truth, they think they
don't offend God; but Piety ſpeaks a Language
very different from thoſe Maxims.; and the
true Way to be a ſincere and real Devout Woman,
is by conſulting of it.
In thort,, to ſum up the Character of a Fe-
male Bigot, fhe is a Curſed Compoſition of Evil
Qualities : Her Hypocriſy juſtifies her Pride,
and her Pride ſupports her Hypocrily: The
formal Zeal of her Lips countenances the Scan-
del of 'em ; and ſhe thinks that if ſhe
goes
du.
ly to Church, ſhe may raiſe Lies upon all Man-
kind. To turn up her Tuil to the Godly, is
Charity and Brotherly Love: To fpeak well of
another Seet, is Prophane : To have civil Como
merce with 'em, is Abomination, unleſs there
appear fome Hopes of bringing 'em over to the
Lord. Hypocrisy has nothing good in it, but
that peradventure the zealous, exterior, and
the feign'd Devotion; gives ſome of the weaker
People
166 The CHARACTER' of
People a real Inclination to Pitty and Goodneſsi
In every other Particular it is worſe than a
tbeifm, for one only affronts God by denying
;
him, whereas the ober confeffes him, and im
piouſly laughs at him to his very Face in every
AEP of Devotion.
0000000000000000000
The Religious Woman.
Ibe
BAITH is the Mother of Piety; whow
ever gives himſelf to God, and makes
Profeffion thereof, oughé to under-
ftand well his Religion, to delight in
the Duties thereof, and perfectly per
form them. His firft Care is to inform him-
Telf, and to guide the Courſe of his Life by the
Fuith of his Knowledge, that he may not know
the Law as Libertines do, nor practice his Obe.
dience to it as Bigots.
But when Faith has once ſucceeded the Care
of his Inftruction; that he is ſure of having
found out the way, the Truth, and the Life;
that he feels that admirable Peace which Truth
fpreads in his soul; that his Heart, filled with
Charity, entertains no more I boughts, but ſuch
as lead to the Joys of Eternity ; his Under.
ſtanding is convinc'd, his Soul is fill’d with
Holinifs, and the Practice of Vertue becomes
eafy, when the Mind is certain of what it
ought
a RELIGIOUS WOMAN. 167
Gught to know, 'and the Fruit of that Knowe
ledze becomes the Zeal of the Will. Then is
ſeen that Mary-like preſſing Deſire to find out
Cbrift, that Love of the Magdalen's to follow
him, and that Cure of the Martba's to ſerve
him. Neither the Word of the Angel, nor the.
Oppoßtion of the Phariſees, nor the Preference
of Magdalen, can ſtop them. Dofire, Couragi,
and Power to perform, follow Faith cloſe at the
Heels ; Hope and Charity animates them; they
sun tranſported by their earneſt Defres, but all
this in the Way of Truth, following Chrift
without Ceaſing and Reſt; continually buſying
themſelves in the Lord's Vineyard, and never
draining the Power of their Will, tho' they
weaken the Strength of their Bodies. This is
the Rule of a Soul that truly feeks after God, a
burning Defire of performing all things for the
Love of him, ſuch an Impreſſion of his Divini.
ty that continually humbles us, and that fhelters
,
us from the Pride of the Devil, which is ſo
dangerous to innocent Souls. An inexpreſſible
Hefolution, which makes us to overcome all Ob-
Bacles which we meet in the Way, trac'd out
by Feſus Chriſt, in which we mult go without
Intermiſſion or Looking back, if we would be
perfect. None can follow Chrif by Intervals ;
it is a Courſe without Interrup ion, which the
Will muſt perform; the leaft Reſt diſtances us
from it, and frequently Neglect makes us to
loſe the sight of it, and ſo ftraggle out of the
Way as never to retrieve it again: It is our
faithful and diligent following of him, which
is the moſt eſſential Article of true Piety.
How
)
į
1
1
1
s
1
168
The CHARACTER of
How many Souls ſeek after. Chriſt, that find
him, and afterwards leave, and fly from him ?
The Fervency of Devotion gives them impetu.
oùs Motions, which natural Weakneſs, Occaſion,
and Tendency, ſtops in the midſt of their Courſe;
and frequently that great Zeal which our Con-
ftitution animates, yields to the meaneſt Trifle
which offends thé predominant Paſſion.
We ought not to give the Conduct of the
other Verlues to that which we value moſt, but
to that Vertue that is moſt neceſſary, which is
that that curbs moſt our Will, and which makes
us the cloſer to follow Chriſt. Love cannot
move with heavy Feet; when the Heart freely
gives it ſelf up, we fly; when Love calls upon
us, the Spirit of Charity
, puſhes us on, and the
Holy Transport of a Soul that loves God, cauſes
it to follow the Precepts and the Counſels of
Chrift fo exa&ly, that its Conduct appears as a
Goſpel, wherein one ſees writ down the Leſſons
of a Crucified God. I confeſs, that the Scarcity
of thoſe Apoftolical Perſons which filled the firft
Ages, would give Caule to doubt whether there
have been any ſuch in ours? If the Perfection
of thoſe that give'us Examples, did not attoje
for the ſmall Number, and did not perſwade us,
by the Excellency of ſo wonderful a State, of
the Comforts which Grace communicates in this
laborious Way of Penitenct, to ſerve and follow
Chriſt : For the ſame Will which makes us to
follow him every where, makes us to ſerve him
in all things: It fuffices not to love him in
Contemplation; we muſt worſhip him in Sub-
miſſion alſo. We muſt ſerve him with a Faith.
fulnefs
a
a RELIGIOUS WOMAN. 169
fulneſs proportionable to our Condition, for the
: Law is not kept by meer Speculation ; that Cha-
•rity which God requires of us, muſt be active;
and Faith, that Divine Vertue, which makes us
to adore him, is not contented with the bare
Submiſion of our Knowledge, but requires alfo
the Works of an active Charity, and that the
Heart be aſſiſted by the Hunds. Wherefore
there is no Reft to a Chriſtian Soul ; its Work
is to begin with its Reaſon, and end but with
its Life; and all its Perfection conſiſts, to begin
it with Chearfulneſs, to continue it with Cou-
rage, and to end it with Love. When that
Love, which is the Foundation of the Law, has
once penetrated the Heart of Man, all the Se-
verities of Penance, all Rigours appear pleaſing
to his Defires, all his Obligations towards God
are filled with an unlimited Fervency : His
Zeal omits nothing that might contribute to
the Glory of God; and his Neighbour, through
an Effuſion of the ſame Charity, is ſought after
with Care wherever he ſuffers, is aſliſted with
Diligence in any thing that he wants, and is
comforted with Mildneſs, according to his Con-
dition. The ſame Zeal which raiſes him to.
wards God through Love, that unites him to his
Neighbour by Charity, humbles him alſo, and
Thews him that Nothing and that Sin which are
truly his own, and proper to him. In reflect-
ing on his own Miſeries, he conceives the vaſt
Diſtance he is at from the Excellencies of the
Divinity, and ſtrengthens his Faith, which
cauſes him to adore that Immenfity which he
admires : He examines what is that Non-entity
I
whereof
170 The CHARACTER of
a
whereof he conſiſts, and that Reflection leads
him to a Contempt of himſelf, and to the Love
he owes to his God. This is the true Situation
of a Chriſtian Soul that profeſſes Pirty ; there is
no Thoughts left of outward Appraruncis," hen
one publickly declares to be a Child of the
Eternal Joys: For this there is required a Ci -
cumcifion of the Will, and that Intirifi and Self-
Love being for ever deſtroyed by the Power of
our Love towarsis God, they may no longer be
capable to ſtay us in the Way of Vertue : We
muft be, as St. Paul ſays, Stronger than tbe Gates
of Hell, through the Power of Charity.
Let every one examine himſelf on this Model
of Picty, and judging himſelf with Sever ly;
confeſs his Sins towards God, and Faults towards
Men; and let this fincere Acknowledgment
create in him the ſtrongeſt Senſe of Abne ation
that we are capable of feeling; without which
we can never ſeek after, follow, nor ſerve Chrift,
as he requires, and as we ought to do.
The Witty Woman.
W
IT in Woman is like Metal in a
Blind Horſe; it ſerves only to ha-
zard their Shins. The Vanity of
AMK fhewing it, expoſes 'em to all
Company ; and it often happens,
happens, that
in
numerous Acquaintance, where they
a
ftrive
à Wittr WOMAN.
171
+
chall. With her
ſtrive to eſtabliſh an Empire, and make Ship-
wreck of their
Reputation, and ſometimes of
their tertur. The violenteft Paſſion imaginable
has not ſo much Effect upon a Lovely Woman, as
a little well-managed Flattery and Incenſe has
upon one that values her felt upon a pert Hu-
mour and a Volubility of Language. But, in
a Word, a Woman that pretends to Wit, is in-
fufferable in Society; becauſe it is very rare to
meet with any of that Charutter, but ſuch as
are inſupportably Vain and Arrogant; of which
I am going to give you an Account.
The greateſt Wanton is leſs
own Beauty, than the least Witty is conceited
with her own Genius. She has an univerſal Con-
tempt for all Greatures the in a manner con-
founds Man with Beafts, if ſhe finds his Reafin
not accompanied with Wit; and the lives at a
great Diſtance from common Senf, through that
Pride into which ſhe is puffed up by her pre-
tended' fine Wit, which makes her to become as
inſufferable to others, as others appear to her.
A Woran that is thus blindled, is ſo far from
Truth; that it is no wonder the moſt Prudent
avoid her, and the lefs Frarful dread her ; for
fhe is capable of nothing but to give falſe Co-
lours to Lies, and to commit Evil with the
more Cunning: Of which this is the Reaſon ;
a Woman runs ſuperficially over the Sciences,
but never dives into them: She naturally re-
,
ceives Eloquence, and puts it in Uſe withoút
the Rules requiſite for it; the cleaves to thoſe
Authors that ſpeak mof her own Senſe, with.
out giving her ſelf the Troublé to pick out thofe
I 2
that
3
be
3
172 The CHARACTER of
that are moſt uſeful for her. She ſtudies
Words only, for the believes that it is the
Term that does all. No Condition can pleaſe
her without Politeniſs, becauſe Wiſdom and
Truth are banilh'd from her Study, which the
wholly applies to the moſt receiv'd and nice
Expreſions : And if ſhe does but obſerve ſuch
an Exactneſs in Speech, as exempts her from
treſpaſſing againſt the Rules of a correct Dif-
courſe, the troubles her ſelf no farther, and
cares not whether ſhe thinks as others do, pro-
vided another ſpeaks not ſo finely as ſhe. The
Defore ſhe has to appear Learned, is the chiefeſt
Obſtacle to hinder. her from being ſo ; for there
is required a great Proportion of conceald
Time and Labour to attain to an approv'd
Mirit: And Women are more inclin'd to loſe
their Time at Eaſe, than to employ either
Time or Labour to acquire Vertue. That is the
Reaſon their beſt and chiefeſt Tatent conſiſts in
Converſation ; it is at ſuch a time that their
earneſt Deſire to appear ſomething more than
ordinary breaks forth, and that they ſpread in
others Minds ſome Defeet of their own; for in
one Afternoon's Space they make a whole Courſe
of Wit ; they paſs from Doctrine to Manners,
from Uſe to Opinion, from Seriouſneſs to Airi-
nefs, and in two Hours time they treat of all
the Intereſts of Europe, tho' they know not the
leaſt of them; they drain Matter dry, without
ſo much as touching them; they offend Reaſon,
in but attempting to reaſon, they have ſuch a
Series of Thoughts as furniſhes them with Suf-
ficiency of Words to fill up the Chaſms of
Time,
TWITTY WOMAN.
173
.
8
Time, and are very well pleaſed to ſpend a
World of Expreſſions on Things that they are
utter Strangers to.
They uſe Cauſes, that a Politeneſs of Lane
guage conceals part of their Ignorance; and
that an Adulator pleaſes and prepoſſeſſes them
with his Daubing, which with them paſſes
for a juſt Homage. The Flatterer is not di-
ftinguiſh dh from the Sincere amongſt them ;
they rely on a dangerous Afprobation, not con-
fulting Science which might enlighten them ;
tloſe falſe Glimmerings that dazzle them,
give fo fair a Light, that Self-Love takes
care to preſerve it, to ſet forth it ſelf by it.
And thus they fancy themſelvis raiſed up to a
Pitch of Knowledge, of which they ſcarce pre- ..
ſerve the bare Name in their Memory.
This is the Cuſtom of your Witty Women'.
they have a vaſt Idea of Wit in their Ima i-
nation, but no Knowledge, no Rule, nor Under-
ſtanding; a bare Idea only, that is, a vaſt Ex-
tent, which comprehends all great Things ; à
great Space within themſelves, where they fan-
cy to behold an Affembly of all the various
Accompliſhments of the Mind.
When a prudent Man conſults Truth, and
believes he has found it, he fixes and termi.
nates there: He no longer ſtrays from that
Point ; he is doubtful of all Things elſe, and
is not certain of any Thing, but in relation
to that which has fix'd him, and unto which
he believes Truth to be annex'd; and that is
what renders him juſt in the Conſequences, pro
vided he has not been deceiv'd in his firft
Choice;
a
1
13
174
The CHARACTER of
Choice; for he deviates not from his firſt Prin- .
ciples he is fill the ſame; an uniform Senſe
guides him in all refpects. He is prefently ſen,
lible that the Fruits of his Labour is a Light
without Shadow, which exempts him from an
the Spots and Blem lous of Error. But the
{ame Reason that ſtrengthens ſo good a Genius,
does alſo fortify a bad one.
Stability is the Confequence of an acceptable
Opinion; and Women, who determinate their
Thoughts with much more Eaſe than Men,
are alſo more apt to prevaricate from Truih;
they eſpouſe a Party without conſulting their
Rafon; and they have no ſooner follow'd their
own Byafs, but it becomes their whole Light,
and perpetuates them in that Error of Choce;
they err through Quickneſs of Apprehenfion,
which makes them to reſolve before they have
thought. And this firſt Error, into which ignos
rance has led them, the first Cauſe of all
thoſe Strayings of Reaſon and Common Senſe,
which they have on all Things, which renders
them inſufferable; for they have not the Power
to correct themſelves ; their knowledge being
ſéduc'd through Opinion, will not yield to
friendly Cares, to the Advices of good Authors,
nor even to the first Tinclures they have to
change. The Habit of Opinion is more power-
ful than all the Paffions together, there is re-
quird a ſupernatural Power to reduce to Truth
a Mind that is ſpoild by falſe Principles that
pleaſe it. A Woman whoſe Mind is not right,
changes the Objects of Nature and of Place;
Truth muft ſtand awry, that the may ſee her
alight;
A WITTY WOMAN. 175
a.
right ; for ſtîe perceives nothing but through
fach shadows as deceive her, and that cau'es
her to deceive others, becauſe the infaates
theſe falſe Lights, and makes Uſe of the most
lively Colours, to make them appear to others
asri ht as ſhe her ſelf fancies them.
Men are exempted from that dangerous and ;:
But W.men, whoſe Blindneſs caufes them to
feek after Light, grow the more blind the more
they go about to enlighten themielves, anıl falli
into the Inconveniency of the Witty, which is.
to admire while they deceive themſelves.
Their confuſed Knowled, the Aptneſs they
d
hawe to aſpire to elevated Things, and the Defire
to appear capable, are the Cauſes of their lg-
norance; and it produces furh Olfacles as teha
der Scienie much more neceſſary and convenie
ent to them.
O@0506000000 SOOO
The Prudent Woman:
IT is of both Sexes. The Saul is a
Spiritual Being, capable to perform
W
its Operations in Women as well as
Men, and tho' Men are deſign'd
for laborious Employs, and ſuch as
require Knowledge and Application ;
whom Cuſtom has juſtiy excluded from thoſe
Employs, (their tender and foft. Tempers not
inabling them to bear the Burden thereof) are
4.
Women,
nota
176
The CHARACTER of
not to be excluded from the Labouring after
Knowledge, becauſe it is very neceſſary to all;
and if it prejudices any, it is ſuch as would
be much more injur'd by Ignorance, than by
the Lights of Knowledge. As one that is half
Wiſe, values himſelt upon that little he knows,
ſo an ignorant Coxcomb is puffed up with no-
thing at all, and would think himſelf an Ano
gel, Thould he know never ſo little. All that
he learns, contributes much more to his Pride
than to his Perfection. Wherefore the firſt
Step of an ingenious Perſon, is to be ſenſible he
knows nothing, and to have a Defire to know
much, before he knows any Thing at all.
As there is nothing more deſirous than Know-
ledge, ſo the Difficulties of attaining to any
Degree of Perfection in it, require a great deal
of Iime, and an afliduous Application. This
diſguſts the Lazy, and makes 'em content them-
felves with being not quite Fools; and ſince a
ſuperficial Aiquaintance may be had with the
Sciences at a much eaſier Rate, they beg your
Parden for long Watchings, and tedious Turr-
ing over of voluminous Authors: And if they
atrain to ſome ſmall Smattering in Letters, they
are vainer by half than a conſiderable Proficient
in Learning and knowledge. This pitiful Sam-
ple of Underſtanding having had no folid Bafis,
never proceeds very far; and if Pride and Self-
Love did not cherish and nouriſh it, we could
not but bluſh at our pretended Scholarſhip,
which in Effect is nothing more than a well-
varniſh'd Ignorance. Many Men, through want
of a juſt Reliſh of Learning, are mighty in-
quiſitive
a PRUDENT WOMAN. 177
upon, is an
quiſitive after Curioſities : And theſe feeble
fantaſtical Genius's never arrive to any
Pere
fection ; they are pleaſed with the good Pban-
tom of Knowledge, and think every little Out-
of-the-way Thing that they ſtumble
Arcanum of Nature; for it is rare if ever
thefe ſorts of Capacities have their Eyes open-
ed; and ſo their vain Error roots it ſelf into
'em, and attends 'em to their Grave. The
great Advantage of Knowledge, is, to correct
all the Abufes of our mif-guided Education, and,
if poſſible, to eſtabliſh the Soul and Reaſonin
their proper Empires. He that has pry'd thie
moſt narrowly into himſelf, has only the Cona
folation of difcovering how ignorant lie was
even when he thought he knew conſiderably.
Real Kno sludge makes us humble, but a Smata
tering of Learning only feeds our Pride, Vunia
ly, and Self-Conceit.
Certainly he who negle&ts Knowled:f, is ve-
ry near quitting his Rea fon; and from a Dif-
guft of the juſt Rules of Philof phy, it is not
far to the Loſs of Common Senſe For how
:
can a Perſon be counted Judicious that por-
ſeſſes nothing but thoſe Vapours of a quick Ape
prebenfion, which a boiling hot Blood produces
on certain Occaſions, where the Diſposition of
the Organs, join'd to the Puſſion which then
animates him, makes him accidentally light
on ſome good Notions, and expreſs then
rightly ; whoever thould judge of any Perfon
on fo bare' a Tryal, would think him Lerned,
while he only poſſeſſed thể Means of being
fo! No, tho' we have never ſo good natural
Parts,
a
a
15
178
The CHARACTER of
Parts, they require the Mafter-ftrokes of Scie
ences, to render them accompliſh'd ; and with
what fine Wit foever Nature has endow'd a
Man, it is never naturally what it would be
when aſſiſted with the Advantages of Learning.
It happens alſo ſometimes, that an Under-
ftanding Perfon, that has but an indifferent
Genius, is capable of deſtroying it without
Redemption, for want of certain Rules: For the
natural Actions of the Mind may as foon flip
by a Truth, as find it; it is meer Chance : That
is the Reaſon that Women, who are moſt capa.
ble through their Acuteneſs to raiſe themſe ves
unto the moſt ſublime Things, and more lia-
ble through Change to, abandon Truth after
they have attained to it, have more Need of
a regular Knowledge than all others, to frame
their Minds into Order : And to fix them firm
with Aſurance, we ought to ſeek after the moſt
approv'd Method of Study, and fick to its
Rules to guide our Knowledge, and when ty
ſuch Matters as are generally approv'd, we
have inform'd our felves of all Things, we
muſt not yet fancy we know enough. It is for
want of a perfect Underpanding that we make
Halts in the Way of Truth. Scarce does a
Man's Life fuffice to know that which a Child
ſhould not be ignorant of; we grow weary
inſtead of taking Courage ; Vanity fixes us,
and frequently an Approbation makes us fó
Proud, as to neglect to take thoſe Pains which
would tend to our
Accompliſhments. We make
a Stop at the firf Tinctures of Learning, and
inſtead of animating our felves with thoſe.
Defros
$
a PRUDENT WOMAN.
177
Defires that an enlightned Mind would inſpire,
we reinain in the Condition of the half Learn.
ed, which is only to appear ſomething. How-
ever, there are but few of thoſe elevated Minds
that are above the Common Level, that fall?
into ſuch Carleſnefs; they are raiſed by a
more noble Impulſe above all Vain-Glory; and
that which they already know, ſerves as a Spur
to make them learn more. You ſhall find
them (tho' fix'd to the Sentiments of the moft
eminent Authors) inſtructing themſelves with
all the others of leſs Eſteem, and without be-
ing puzzled with the Vanity of Opinions, con-
firm themſelves in the moff juſt of thoſe which
they have made Choicr, and cauſe all oppofti-
ons to contribute to the Glory of Truth. To
know much, we ought not to value nor con-
ſult our felves ; Self-Love is an Enemy to La-
bour and Pain, and Opinion to Trutb : We
ought to ſuſpect all Things which we either
advance of our ſelves, or that we are Judges
of. Not that we fhould fubmit our felves to
all ſorts of Judgments more readily than to our
own, but our own ought always to make us-
tremble when it is not directly conformable to
the Antients, and to thoſe Moderns that are
indued with ſtrong and powerful Reaſons.
Wherefore it is obſerv'd, that your great
Wits, that afpire to the Knowledge of the moſt
abstruſe Things, conſult all Things, continu-
ally informing themſelves, and approve not
much their own Conceptions. To what Degree
and Pitch ſoever we liave by our Induftry ad-
vane'd our Learning, either as to Generals or
Partia?
;
180
The CHARACTER of
Particulars, or through the Sublimity of our
Genius's, we fhould ſeem to have out-ſtript
Common Knowledge ; yet, after all, this would
but aſſure us how vaſt and immeaſurable a
Quantity of Knowledge lay out of Sight, as
well as out of our Reach. A real Humility
is the moſt infallible Argument of a Man's be-
ing a Knowing Man.
We ought to know all Things, the better to
know, and leſs to value our felves, and with
a continual Application inſtruct our felves in
the Knowledge of God, in whom alone is the
true knowledge of all Things, and the Fulnefs
of Eternal Wiſlom.
00000000000000000000
The Houſe-Wife, or a Penurious
Woman.
HERE is nothing ſo good in its
own Naturt, but what ignorance
T
and Pride may diftort to its con-
trary, and of a neceffary Virtue
make a commodious Vice. That
wonderful Difcretion to requiſite to every
married Woman, tho ſo rarely to be found
amongſt 'em, 'I mean a good Oeconomy,
is the Preſervation of a Man's Honour, with.
out the impairing his Temporal Affairs; a ju•
dicious Diſtinction between Penury and Profuſes
nefs.
a
PENURIOUS WOMAN. 188
nefs. Hoſpitality is often the Ruin of a Man,
when a vain or a fooliſh Woman has the Cona
dust of his Family: What he intends gene-
rouſly, ſhe laviſhes away through want of
Conduct ; and willing to gratify her own Ama
;
bition, as well as comply with the noble free
Spirit of her Huſband, the unhappy Man finds
his Eftate ſinking, and he reducd to an un-
grateful Neceſſity of contracting his way of Li-
ving, which might have been continued, had
not a fooliſh Woman had the Management of
his Expence. The Misfortune of one Extream
precipitates them, or rather her, into another,
more ſafe, but hardly more honourable : Now
ſhe is as cloſe-fifted, as before the had been
liberal ; now every Body in the Family muſt
ſtarve to repair former Extravagances : To
drink between Meals is perfect Gluttony ; to
eat Butter with Cheeſe, perfect Waſte ; a Cruft
of Bread given away at the Door is robbing
her Huſband ; Sauces with Meat is Superfluity;
and every Relation that comes to dine with
them, is wiſh'd choak'd with the firft Bit he
puts in his Mouth.
a
;
:
A Woman whore Heart has not been mov'd
by Gallantry, nor by vain Glory, ought to fear
being overcome by Intereſt; and it's a very dif.
ficult Task for her to avoid the Love of Rilbis,
when the deſpiſes Ambition. The ſame Tema
per that leads her to live a retir'd Life, in-
clines her to hoard up her Money; and all the
Love ſhe expreſſes towards Things that are rea-
ſonable at the Bottom, is but a ſordid Love of
Wealth,
182 The CHARACTER of
Wealth. A covetous Woman, that has acquír'd
the Title of a good Houfr-zife, is wonderful in
her Vigilance, Exaltnifs, and in her Unders
standing. Nothing nut-does her Cares, 10-
thing ſurprizes her Exultnefs, and nothing
eſcapes her Knowledge. Her Defire continua
ally agitates her, and makes her more reft-
leſs than others, as the continual Fear ſhe is
in to loſe any Thing perpetually diſturbs
her. She examines all Things very ftri&tly ;
ſhe ſpends nothing idly, and which cauſes her to
take Notice of every Thing that is done in her
Family, and frequently to ſee even what is
not done in it; for on that falle Opinion that
prepoffeffes her, the frequently fancies Things
that are not. Her Love tires her, her Exačt.
nefs troubles her, and her very beſt concerted
Meaſures deceive her : She taxes her ſelf with
Slotb, with Careleſnefs, aid with Blindnefi,
without once thinking on Coveloufnefs, which
is the only Thing that difturbs her, and which
puts her on taking a thouſand Troubles upon
her, which terminate in Vice. One may be
ſparing without Diſturbance; and frequently
an over-diligent Woman ſpares more and ſaves
lefs, then the loſes otherwife. How many do
we ſee amongſt thoſe that pinch in neceſſary
Expences, who by a Cuſtom of Penury at
laſt bring themſelves not to ſpend any Thing
at all, and will hazard all in hopes of a great
Gain? We live no longer in the Days of Vir.
the ; all Things are now carry'd into Extremi-
ties. If any Perſon is expenſive, it is even to
Prodigality; and if any are fparing, it is
through
a PENURIOUS WOMAN. 183
.
through Avarice. A Woman thus blinded, is
the moſt to be lamented; for the is pafs'd all
Hopes of Amendment. Some Perſons may be
ſenſible of others Errors, but ſuch as are yuil.
ty of this indulga themfelves. Hardneſs of
Heart is inſeparable from it, becauſe Cuftom,
Reafon, Prudence, and even Neceffity, engage
us to good Management; and from good Huf
bandry to Avarict, there is but one Step to
make, which is done frequently without Con.
fideration. An exact Perſon is as rare to be
found under the now, as it was under the ans
cient Law. It is difficult to ſtand firm wben
. the Ground is ſo flippery. It is to the Con-
queft of this approv'd Vice that I would con-
duct the Women of this Age ; I would fain root
out of their Hearts the Spirit of Penury, and
take away Activity of Aëtions, which expreſs
ſo much Paſion in thoſe Cares they take upon
themſelves. I would not that any unexpected
Slight ſhould ever ſurprize them fo much as
to vex them; that thoſe ſmall Lolfes, which hap-
pen by a thouſand Accidents, ſhould diſturb
their Reſt. It would be a very agreeable
Thing to ſee a Woman wife and regular. Thoſe
that pretend to thoſe Qualities, have com-
monly, nothing in them but a Craftineſs to
hcard up, and Olfinacy to keep, and a dread-
ful Apprebenfion to loſe. You ſhall ſee them
employ all their Wits in finding out Ways
to increaſe their Stores, take all the Pains ima.
ginable to preſerve
the Means they
poſſeſs, and
fret themſelves to Death at the Thoughts of
neceſſary Expences, and of the evil Accidents
that
a
.
184 The CHARACTER of
that might happen; ſo that the Time paſs’d
is the Cauſe of their Regrets; the preſent Time,
that of their Vexation; and the Time to come,
that of their Fears and Apprehenfions. Thus
tormented in Heart and in Mind, they have
no Eye's but to behold their own Intereſt; all they
do is in relation to that ; and even their Acts
of Piety are bent intentionally on Intereft.
They hope from their Prayers the Proſperity of
their
Family ; and this is ſo true, that when
the Duties of Religion are oppoſite to their
Penuriouſneſs, they curtail little the firſt, that
they may not take any Thing away from the
latter. And there is no Scruple made, in re-
lation to Houſewifery, to take Care of the
main Chance, as they call it, before they en-
tertain any Thoughts concerning Salvation.
The Calm of an avaritious Conſcience, is a Con-
dition worthy Compaſſion; no Trouble awakens
it out of that Lethargy of Intereſt which Wo-
men ſuit with their Reaſon. Sometimes they
return God Thanks even for that deplorable Cone
dition they are in, as if it was a Gift of his
Mercy ; returning frequently leſs Thanks for
the Goods God has beſtow'd on them, than for
the Love that they bear towards thoſe Mrans
they have receiv'd. For all the Reflection which
a Woman's Charity cauſes her to make at the
Sight of a miſerable Man's Condition, is no-
thing but the Reſolution of keeping ſafe what
ſhe has, for Fear of falling into the like Ne-
celfity.
A
a PENURIOUS WOMAN. 185
A covetous Woman ſeeks everywhere for
fome Body more covetous than her ſelf, to
be her Model, and to give to others an Exam-
ple; and the Conſequence of this, is to fix her
Mind on Avarice, ſo as to carry' it on to the
higheſt Degree, and to exerciſe it above all
Things in her Family ; retrenching part of
what is neceſſary, affording no more Nouriſh-
ment than what will ſerve to make Servants
languiſh, but not live; denying to her ſelf all
that ſhe might allow to others, without Preju-
dice to the main, and leading a moſt mifera-
ble Life, under the ſpecious Pretence of Houf:-
w fery.. A Pretence that deceives her in abu-
ſing others, and which cauſes her to act ſuch
Jhameful Things, of which ſhe glories in pri-
vate, practiſing to her ſelf her Induſtry in the
Performance of a thouſand baſe Things, which
ſaves her ſome Pence, but cofts her more in
Rrputation and Honour than ſhe has of Wealth.
All Reaſon, and even Chriſtianity, are to be
laid aſide where her Interit is concern'd. She
forgets the Duties of Blood, of Friendſhip, and
of Acknowledgement or Gratitude, where there
is any Profpečt of Gain; and where Profit has
a Share, ſhe remembers not any Thing of
Luty ; but thinks of all that ſhe is worth, and
Intereſt alone judges of all her Cir umſtances,
and is the Rule of her whole Conduct. Such
an Houſe-Wife bids welcome but to ſuch as
viſit her on the Account of her own Inte-
reft. Birth-right, Good Will, and Friend-
ſhip, are always beſtow'd on the moſt Lucky
of all her Children. Her Kindneſs in her
Family
186 The CHARACTER of
Family is always for that Perſon that is leat
chargeable, tho' he may be the wordt of all the
Şervants; and her Diffinĉtion amongſt her
Friends, is always to prefer the most Rich, be-
cauſe he cannot be chargeable, and becauſe the
hopes for fome Services from his Credit, Autho-
rity, and Favour : The Greusneſs of which the
expreſſes by her obſequious Seekmg after ſuch
Perſons, and their Meannefs, and by the for-
getting of them, which foon follows. This is
the Condition of the Houſi-wifery of this Age,
which ſtands in need of a Rule to be corrected
by, which Rule inmediately follows..
08039989099**
The Good Houſe-Wife.
RDER is fo neceſſary, that neither
o
Kingdoms, Commonwealths, Repub-
. ..
licks, nor even particular Families
could long ſublift without it. It is
a Rule that preſerves our Quiet,
Health, and Wealth. We are not troubled
with any Uneakneſs, when we regulate our
Time and Buſineſs, and take our Sleep and
Diet with Moderation : Neither is our Wealth
exhauſted, when a judicious Rule fixes our Ex-
pences. That equitable Rule permits is not to
go beyond our Alilities; if we ſeriouſly conſult
it, we keep our Subſtance in good. Order, and
it's
a Good HUUSE-WIFE. 187
it's rare to die Infirm or Poor, after we have
continually practiſeal it. This is the Vertue
which reconciles Authority and Licence, Avarice
and Prodi ality; and that, by the bringing to-
gether thoſe two oppoſite Ends, makes up a good
Thing of two Bud ones, and hinders the Ex-
celes in which thoſe different Vices lead cach
particular Perſon, according to his particular
Temper. It is not only neceſſary to each Fami-
,
ly, to each Perfon, but alſo to every Alion of
our Lives. We cannot well make a Gift, a
Purchuce, or a Puyment, without this Rule, which
preſcribes to buy Things according to their
Value, to pay juſtly what we owe, and to give
what is properly our own : That a Juftice ſuite
able to each particular Action of ours, ſums up
the full Number of them all, and renders the
Cour fe of our Lives comfortable. For the moſt
perfe&t Satisfaction in this World, is, that
which the Tranquility of the Soul affords us,
and that compleat Foy cannot ſublift where
Crimes and Vices reign; for it is the Reſult of
an irregular Conduct to hate what is Good, and
to accuſtom our ſelves to what is Evil. Excefs
is the only thing that pleaſes a Mind not guided
hy Reafon ; and Reason is too great a Friend to
Regularity, to cohahit with Vice; it drives Vice
away, or Vice deſtroys it : It is a combat that
laſts but a short while, for the Strongeſt ſtands
to it, and the Wifeſ Aieș. Vice acts Tyran-
nically, but Reaſon with Mildneſs ; and the
;
Reſult of theſe pafliorate Motions is a Regret
proceeding either from the Guilt or the Mifa
fortung. Þiførder does not leſs ſeparate a MAP
from
a
188
The CHARACTER of
from Juſtice and Honour, than from Vertue ; for
a Mind or an Heart that is carried away by the
Power of its Inclinations, which ſubmits its
Knowledge to the Pleaſures of its own Will,
and that rules its A&tions by the Motions of a
diſorderly Principle, does, by this univerſal
Confufon, make all its Conſerves Partaker of its
Corruptions, and creates a Diſorder that coni-
founds the Ways of Truth with the Paths that
lead to Falfhood, and ſtill adds to its Confufon
by ſuch Reflections as affli&t it. A Man is no
longer capable of a happy Return from Evil to
Good, from Diſquietneſs to Reſt; he ſtands in
need of foreign Advices to regulate himſelf
by, and tho’he knows them, he is leſs capable
of managing them, than an abſolute Stranger.
The Cauſe of all theſe
. Diſorders, is the forfaking
of that Rule which limited his Duties, and
having yielded unto Paſſions that diſorder'd his
own Conduct, and that of his Family. This
Diſorder ruins ſome through Plenty, and others
through Avarice. Men are apt to fall into this
firſt Error; they yield themſelves up to the
Pleaſures of this World, and without making
Reflections, they beſtow on Pleaſure all their
Wealth and Fortune. They ſometimes find
fome Pleaſures alſo in the outward Appearance
of an imaginary Glory; and tho' it proves
chargeable both to their conſcience and to their
Purſe,yet they retrench nothing of their Retinue,
but rather increaſe their Family, as they do
their Ambition. As to Women, whoſe Minds are
naturally bent to Covetouſneſs, they are very
different from theſe I have now mention'd,
They
a Good HOUSE-WIFE. 189
They increaſe in nothing but in Vice. Their
Penurioufneſs makes them pinch in every
Thing, and their Rule conſiſts in perpetual
Diminutions, which Practice becomes in time
cuſtomary to them; and in vain does Rule ad-
moniſh them in all their Houſhold Concerns,
in order to reclaim them. Nothing can move
them ; a neglected fick Body, a Child ill
cloath'd, a Servant ill paid, and worſe fed,
all thoſe Diſorders move not their Minds. They
themſelves ſuffer through their own Covetonſ-
nefs, and think they ought ſo to do; and pro-
vided there be no ſuperfluous Expences, let the
neceſſary Charges be never ſo retrench’d, all
appears to her in a good Order. Theſe are not
the Laws that an equitable Rule requires us to
obſerve; if they forbid Exceſſes, they alſo for-
bid Penury; if it dif-allows continual Faſtings,
it permits moderate and orderly Meals ; and
when it retrenches the Superfluity of Diſhes,
it does not ſtrike at what is neceffary for
Life. While it oppoſes Magnificence, it ſtill
remains a Friend to Decency; and its principal
Buſineſs is to limit every one to their proper
Condition, and to allow of all that can be
done within the juſt Bounds of every Man's
Eſtate.
The
190
Tbe CHARACTER of
The Gaming Woman.
Aming is a dangerous Paffion, which
ſometimes cauſes in one Day the
G
Loſs of more than the Expences of a
whole Year; and the moſt wealthy
;
and beſt regulated Family cannot
hold out againſt the Extravagancies of a WC-
man that Pluys; who, to pleaſe her ſelf, loſes
her Reft, and for whoſe Diverhon the whole
Day is too ſhort, Night muſt partake of them
alſo, and her whole Life is perpetual Guming.
A Woman whoſe deprav'd Nature inclines her
to this, and who has been fortify'd in it by
Habit, has no other Deſires. She negleéti afl
other Cares, and through a Paſſionate Prepöf-
Seffion; makes of Gaming a Law, an Honour,
and a Rule. She examines what is its due, and
performs it exactly ; caſts up the Expences of
it, and liberally ſupplies them : She approves
of its Rules, and obſerves them regularly.
Therefore fạch a Woman is rarely at Church, at
ſuch Vifts as ſhe is oblig'd to pay,, or at
Home. Through this Profeſſion of being a
Gameſtreſs, ſhe renounces Piety, Honour, and
Rrgularity ; ſhe cannot comply with all the Ob-
ligations of her Duties, while her Pasſion im-
poſes
a GAMING WOMAN. 191
poſes others upon her, that are ſo preſfing, ſo
active, and ſo continual, that the has no Time,
no Defire, nor Love, for any Thing elſe. She
hates all other Diverfions, but through the Love
ſhe has for that particular one, fhe is ſparing in
all Things but thoſe which conferve Gaming to
defray the Exfiences of. And it is theſe Gamingo
Tables that cauſe the Loſs of all our Wralih,
and create the Greedinofs of Riches ; at theſe
the whole Delit ht of their Sorels does profuſe-
ly waſt it felf." The Broils which Interift cauſes
in Diſputes, are but as ſo many Grains of Salt
to whet their Appetites. The Vixations are
fuited to their Pleafures; they are mov'd, but
to appeafe themſelves again; and they appeaſe
themſelves, but to be the oftener tranſported.
It's in thoſe oppoſite Paſſions that they find
their Healths and Satisfactions, and they are
never ſeen more pleas'd, than in the Midſt of
che Confufions of Gaming-Houſes, where Intereft,
Avarice, and Deceit, maintain their Nocturnal
Empire. There they fortify their Paſſion, empty
their Purfes, and ſpend their Lives. There a
Woman Iofes all the ideas of Vertue, and is
apt to receive and entertain a Thouſand un-
worthy ſecret Paffions, under the Veil of this
publick' one. There are frequent Appoint-
ments made on the Account of Voluptuouſneſs,
as well as of Intereſt. Thoſe unlawful Affem-
blies are as favourable to the Demon of In
purity, as to that of Blaſphemy. Fury and
Debauchery are found there. And in the Midf
of ſuch an horrid Society will fome Wi-
men glory to have a Place, and the gives
her
192
The CHARACTER of
a
her ſelf a Reputation in the World, in decla-
sing ſhe is one of that Society. She even ſeems
to glory in thoſe Misfortunes which are the
Puniſhments of her Diſorders. For the braggs
loudly of her Loſſes, and endeavours to com-
fort her ſelf in them, by converting them into
Merits, never conſidering that this Superfluity,
which ſhe beſtows on Chance, is what Provi-
dence has depoſited to her Care, for the Uſe
of her Family, or the Poor at leaſt. But how
can the Concerns for Religion and for her
Neighbour move her, and cure her Weakneſs,
when more ſenſible Reaſons, tho’leſs powerful,
make no Impreſſions on her Heart? And noć
limiting her ſelf to the Expences of what is
ſuperfluous, ſhe alſo laviſhes that which is
purely neceſſary; and the Sight of a Difcon-
tented Husband, of miſerable Children, of a
ruind Family, and of all the Evils to which
ſhe expoſes her ſelf, are not ſufficient to re-
claim her. Want will ſooner exclude her from
Gaming, than. Reaſon can baniſh that Paſſion
from her Heart ; and ſhe muſt become the Scorni
and Contempt of all the World, before ſhe can
leave off. 'What Blindneſs, what Darkneſs do
ſuch Paſſions infuſe into a Soul ! She is ignorant
of the very Evils that ſhe ſuffers; and when
ſhe finds that ſhe cannot cure her Paſſion, nor
ſatisfy it, then it is that ſhe begins to examine
her Condition, and not before ; and the Im-
poſibility ſhe is in to continue her ill Courſe,
makes her ſenſible of it. She beholds a great
Number of Evils, that have been caus'd by
one ſingle Paſion ; the looks on the Confr-
quences
a
a GAMING WOMAN.
193
?
1
1
b
1
3
quences of the unruly Motions of her Heart;
but this Knowledge does but half enlighten
her. She but hates the Effects of that Cauſe
The ſtill loves, and her greateſt Sorrow is not
for being unfortunate, but becauſe ſhe has no
longer the Means to make her ſelf ſo, and to
be reduc'd to acknowledge an Evil which the
ſtill purſues.
Other Vices have ſomething to plead in their
own Behalf; but the Itch of Gaming is the
moſt.unaccountable, as having no Excuſe, no
Incentive, but Vice alone ; for, abſtracting from
the Puſſions it provokes us to, it ſublifts by a
covetous Defire of what is another's, or a laviſh
Squandering away our own. Nature has made
Man a ſenſible Creature. Beauty moves him,
the Action ſuch as the World could not contin
nue long without. Time takes away the vio-
lent Edge of it, when vigorous Ycuth finds it
ſelf tempted to frequent Sallies. Wine was the
immediate Bleſſing of Heaven, to chear our
languiſhing Spirits, the Conſolation of the Af-
flicted, the Joy of the Happy, the Benrfit of the
Rich, and the Cordial of the Poor ; and if its
Charms do now and then trip up the Heels of
our Difcretion, a Day or two's Moltration ſets
all in order again. But nothing can recall the
precious Pence, that the unlucky Run of the Dice
has now determin'd to be no longer your own:
And 'tis obſervable, that this Plague of Gaming
grows more obſtinate by Age, and will not ad
mit of any Cure, while a foot of Land or a
Penny is left. This curſed Fire cannot be ex.
Vol. V.
K
tinguiſhid,
;
194
The CHARACTER of
tinguiſh'd, but by want of Fewel. How many
Raſcals keep their Coaches at the Expence of
young Noblemen, and in the Revolution of a
few Years have ſhaken great Eſtates out of the
rich Heirs Pockets into their own; and a fat
Man vie Equipage with the Duke he bully'd.
If we ſee ſome few Perſons reclaim'd from
the Exerciſe of Gaming, we ſee none decline the
Love of it. They ceaſe Playing, but ceaſe not
to love it; and that Remnant of Injuſtice that
is in them, ſerves but to renew that Fury at the
firſt Occafion that will offer it ſelf, and to ſnatch
from them that little which providence fends.
You ſhall ſee ſome that torment themſelves,
and give themſelves a World of Trouble, and
all the Fruits of their Labour are laid on a
ſingle Card. They'll toil a whole Month to
play one Hour only, and their Labour is as full
of Evil as is their Pleaſure, doing the one but
in Love to the other; and this ſtrange Pre-
;
polision renders them equally paſſionate in all
the other Actions of their Lives.
If a Chriſtian Woman did but know to what
Extremity ſuch a Pufion leads, and the Dif-
of getting off after once engag'd in it,
The would never allow her ſelf the Uſe of fo
dangerous an Exerciſe, and look on all other
Diverpons as guilty, while ſhe would hold this
for harmlefs. It is the moſt ſeducing of all
Paffions, becauſe its Beginning is approv'd by
all, and is blam'd but in its Exceſs, to which
none defigns to attain. Its Power, which begins
under the Pretence of a Diverfon, does ſo in-
ſenſibly increaſe, that that Pleaſure does fre-
quently
ficulty
a GAMING WOMAN.
195
1
1
1
1
1
quently turn to a Neceffity, and from an Hour
cmploy'd at it, one comes to ſpend a whole
Life; and this is done without thinking on it,
much leſs after 'tis once done ; for Time runs
away ſo eafily at it, that for want of obſerv-
ing it, the Loſs is without Redemption; the
Term of our Lives finiſhes, and the long Series
of our Days paſſes away without the Uſe of
one Grain of Vertue or Employment; and of
ſo many Moments that we had at our Difpo-
fal, there remains but one to regret all the
others in. In this laſt we have ſo much Sight,
as ſerves to puniſh us; it's ſmall Space contains
the Idea of all the others, and the Sight of that
infinite Number of the paſs'd waſted Moments,
makes us fenfible of the Eternity of the Time
to come, when we ſhall anſwer for every ill
ſpent Moment of our Lives. If all the Mo-
ments of our Lives are numbred, how ought
we to manage them to render us perfect ; and
if our whole Life ought to be employ'd in one
continued Prayer, let
us ſo order our Affairs,
that thoſe Moments, which we ceaſe from giv-
ing to God, be not ſpent in Idleneſs ; but let
as employ them carefully in the Ways of Vertue,
and never let any Part of our Time be uſeleſs to
pur Salvation.
K 2
Tbi
196
Tke CHARACTIR of
SEN
The Diligent Woman.
Fall natural Inclinations, Idleneſs is
the worſt and moſt dangerous. It
o
is hard for a Perſon born with that
unhappy Diſpoſition, to have any
great Share of Rcafon, or of Virtue ;
which makes Employment to be ſo neceſſary a
Thing for all Perſons : There ſhould not be
one Moment loft in the whole Life of a wife
and worthy Perſon. Thereforea Woman of
Senſe ought not only to perform her Duties,
but to employ her whole Time alſo ; and that
each Moment of it may be found weighty,
The ought to begin her Labour with her Life,
and her Life muſt be one continual Action to
the Glory of GOD. And if the Difference of
Times which compoſes her Life, alters her En-
ployments, let it be in rendring them ftill more
and more Virtuous, more Neble, and of a more
large Extent. She never ought to be ſeen free
from Care: Providence has impos'd on her, as
well as on Min, a perpetual Labour in the
Work of their Salvation. To perform well
that Talk, a Woman muſt have a zealous Vigi-
lunce; which may wean her from the fatal
Dulnrfs
a DILIGENT WOMAN.
197
Dulneſs of Self-love. Whoever is convined,
muſt be animated alſo; and who wants not
Faith, wanţs not Courage likewiſe. The Bottom
of the Heart being oirce corrupted, that Heap
of Corruptions becomes the Cauſe of the. fofc
and eaſy Life which the Women of this Age lea!.
If Religion was believ'd, it would be pra&tis d
alſo ; but it is profeſs'u and not known, or but
by Halves, and without being practis d ; and
all theſe Diſorders render the Soul inſenſible
of what relates to Eternity. It muſt not fur-
priſe us, to ſee, that a Woman who has nið
more Religion than another, ſhall yet abound)
in Self-love, and ſeek more after Pleaſures than
after any good Employment.
Slothfulneſs is the high-Road to Crimes, and
to all manner of Voluptuoufarfs ; and tho it
is more difficult to pleaſe Men than GOD, yeč
it is more eaſy for Women to endeavour to pleaſe
Men, than to do any Thing elſe. That Difire
keeps them perpetually out of Alion, and to
rectify that unhappy. Tendrncy towards worldly
Things, the Heart muſt be touch'd with a Di.
pine Inſpiration, and Grace muſt act an extraor-
dinary Effect in their Behalf. But that Grace
will not operate without Aſiſtance : They
muſt give Way to that Divine Dertile ; they
muſt begin their own Converſion, if not in a-
bandoning immediately, at leaſt in forſäking
Idlenifs, the firft Çaule of all thoſe Paſſions
that makes us gui ty. Wherefore no Diverfion,
,
no Rift. Let Prayer begin and conclude the
Day. They muſt not only lubour, but they muſt
labour for COD alſo. Thoſe that are animated
with
a
Kº3
198 The CHARACTER of
- with a good Intention, can never be tir'd; and
the Way to act with Efficacy and Conftancy, is
to conſider that Time is the way that leads to
Eternity, that the Loſs of it is irrecoverable,
and that the Way is to diſtance our ſelvės from
Virtur. This fame Time ſeems flow-pac'd
and tedious when we ſuffer in the Intervals of
it; but flies away ſwifter than Thought, when
Pleaſure attends each Moment. But to thoſe
that idly let it paſs, it becomes that valt Emp-
tineſs, which contains their Diforders, and that
draws their Condemnation upon them. Short
and unknown Term! Precious, yet fatal Mo-
ment! Time, on which depends Eternity, Malt
thou always be forgotten, always neglected,
and always ſpent in vain, and never vertu-
ouſly apply'd ? Shall Intereſt and Pleafure be the
Cauſe of all our Aſtions, but in order to grow.
wealthy, or to pleaſe our ſelves in ſome other
Manner? Shall Avarice and Voluptuouſneſs al-
ways reign as Sovereigns in the Bottom of our
Hearts, our Lives be ſpent in ſerving our
ſelves, or in loſing our Wealth? And can we
not by a generous Force ſeparate our Will, and
ſatisfy the Defires of Nature, without pleaſing
own Defires, and ſo regulate each Mo
ment, as to exempt it from the Crime of Idle-
nefs. There is no Condition that has not need
of its whole Time to fill up the Duties thereof:
And thoſe Moments that a Woman ſpends in
Gaming, are ſo many ſtoln from thoſe appoint-
ed Duties. Was there but that Fault only to
render her guilty, it would do it infinitely ; if
not through the Evil fhe has committed, yet
through
Our
!
a DILIGENT WOMAN.
199
through the Good ſhe has omitted. For the
Neglect of Duty is not
much leſs than the Com-
mitment of Evil. The Truth is not well known.
We are apt to flatter our felves that Idleneſs
may be innocent, or at worſt not very c'imi.
nal. We applaud our felves for being vertise
tous, becauſe we are not guilty; and in the
Courſe of å luke-warm Life, condemnd by
Chrift, we promiſe to our ſelves the Rewards
of Eternity, which are reſerv'd for thoſe vir-
tuous Perſons mention’d in the Scriptures, who
wean themſelves from the World, to apply
themſelves entirely to GOD's Glory. Yes,
Zeal of Action, vertuous Earneſtnefs, Deſign
of Providence, Employments unknown to Liber-
tines, and neglected by the Wiſe! We have
paſs’d the Time of knowing you, when we can
no longer put you in Practice; neither can you
be put in Practice, when we have no Time
left to know you in. You are not neglected
without Dunger, ſeeing that no Crime can be
conſtantly avoided, and Virtue preſerv'd, but
by your Afiftance. You are ſo neceſſary to a
Chriſtian Life, that thoſe who would religi-
ouſly devote themſelves to GOD, and renounce
all the Maxims of the World, ought not to
ſpare you one Moment. Their Life ought to
be continually employ'd, and their Time fillid
up, that their Eternity may be happy.
K4
The
900
The CHARACTER of
WOOUUTUUNovels bener DK
The Litigious Woman.
F the Soul's Tranquility an:l the
Hrari's Quietneſs " be a compleat
Happineſs, perpetual Troubles and
Vixations are to be accounted very
great Evils; and this is the Lot of thoſe that
are in Law, eſpecially amongſt Women, who be.
ing more ſenſibly concern'd at any imaginary
Injuries than Min, are more frequently af-
frightend, afflicted, and fretted. When their
wronged Intereſt leads them to maintain their
Right, and that Law agreeing with their Hu-
mour, makes them wholly apply themſelves to
their own Concerns,, giving themſelves up a
Prey to the Cares of their Wealth, then do they
employ their whole Time, all their Cares,
their whole Mind, and ſometimes all their
chiefeſt Good, to gain ſuch as they enjoy but in
bare Speculation. When once an Hrart is
pleas'd to be concern'd in a diſputed Intereſt, and
that the Difficulty of it does but the more
whet the Difires, that Cuftom begins to frength.
en the natural inclination, and that Opportuni-
ty offers a Fortunt, or a ſweet Revenge, for an
Injury receiv'd, who can forbear going to Law ?
The Heart is delighted in the very Anticipa-
tion; it reckons on its own Defires.; the Defire
affures the Pollefion, and on this Ground it
acts ;
1
a 'LITIGIOUS WOMAN. 201
acts; and all the Deſigns that our Imagination
can furnith us with, are employ'd to bring about
our Project : All is employ'd about a chimeri.
cal Nothing. On the contrary, when once a
Woman has had ſome Smackering of the Law,
on the Account of Mulice, Injuſtice, or Intereſt,
and that the begins to know the Ways and
Methods of Quarrelling, according to the anci-
ent and laudable Cuſtom of Weſtminſter. Hall,
Pride then is added to the former Defects, and
frequently the is ſo prepoſſeſſed with her own
Skill that Way, that the is for continuing ſuch
Law-ſuits, in which ſhe has not the leaſt C011-
cern, and will plead leſs to gain the Cauſe, than
to ſet forth her Abilities that Way, and to
pleaſe her own vain Humour. · A Woman of
this Complexion, is an inſufferable Creature, ef.
pecially when ſhe has been inſtructed by the
whole Management of Buſineſs, according to
the Rules of Art, in an hundred different Law;
Tricks, by which ſhe her ſelf has formerly been
deceiv'd: The natural Effect of vexatious Law-
ſuits, is to crack the Brains, if not through
Folly, yet through Obſtinacy, and that is one
of the Women's chiefeft Talents. The Vexalia
oufneſs of Buſineſs becomes their Diverhon, as
well as Employ, and that
which was at firſt their
Buſineſs, is made, in Proceſs of Time, their
very Recreation too. By theſe Means they
nourilh, enliven, and pleaſe all their Paſſions.
Their
Intereſt, Hatred, Slander, Self-love, and
even Voluptuouſneſs, are therein gratify’d. They
endeavour to pleaſe, that Point is gain'd; Or-
naments may farther take, they are preſently
employ'd;
K 5
202 The CHARACTER of
employ'd, and all Things elſe, to engage a
Judge in their Intereſts. Beauty requires Art's
Afiftance. Wit ſpares nothing to tickle the
Mind, to move and gain the Heart of that
Magiſtrate, on whoſe Pleaſure the cauſe de-
pends; and all the Charges that Truth, Pru-
dence, and Virtue are at, are reckon'd nothing,
provided they get the Day. A thouſand known
Evils are annex'd to the Purſuit of the Cauſe,
and a thouſand more committed, tho’unknown,
make an end of diſtracing the Soul, and ren-
dering it guilty beyond Redemption. Nice
Quarrels, which Time and Abſence had almoſt
bury'd in an eternal Oblivion, receive again,
under Pretence of an Intereſt, that Honour en-
gages 'em to maintain : And that firſt Step
which conceald Paſſion has made, cauſes a
thouſand others more wicked than the firft.
Truth is almoſt ſtretch'd out to the Magnitude
of a Lyé, that it may be believ'd; and in or.
der to deſtroy the adverſe Parties Lyes, a Man
fhall make no Scruple. to flander, and on the
Account of ſome Right to a Temporal Eſtate,
claims a Right to every Thing, and takes the
Liberty to ſpeak all he knows, to impoſe all
he pleaſes, and to do any Thing elſe to main-
tain that
Right, which ſometimes is but ima.
ginary. There is no Account of Time given,
Cares are not negleted, Money is not Ipard,
and the Welfare of the Soul is not regarded.
On the Management of Law-ſuits nothing is
more forgotten than the Care of the Soul er-
pecially amongſt thoſe women that are pre-
pofleffed with Envy, animated by Intereſt, and
back'd
;
A LITIGIOUS WOMAN.
203
back'd by Hatred. There is no falling back.
The beſt Reaſons that condemn them, cannot
convince them. Whatſoever they undertake
to their own Profit, appears always juft to
them; and rarely a Law-ſuit comes to Arbitra-
.
tion, when Women-follow it. Out of one Law.
Concern they create to themſelves a whole
Courſe of Buſineſs, and of Pleaſure ; the vari-
qus Difpoftions of their Concerns make up a
kind of pleaſing Novelty, which gratifies their
Labour. Their Paſſions are exerciſed by Turns,
and the End of their Life preceeds that of their
Law-ſuit. Their imperfect Enterpriſes are a Sor-
row,
which hold Place of thoſe Virtues that
they have neglected ; and the Care of their
Law-ſuit in this World, is going to determine
the State of their Condition in another,
If good Chriftian Women did but examine
into what dreadful Engagements their Cares
do lead them, they would not ſo eaſily go to
Law į the Loſs of Time, the Alienation of
;
their Thoughts from GOD, the Neglect of them-
ſelves, and a thoufand other Motives, would
reſtrain their greedy Intereſt; and for fear of
loſing their Souls, they would not venture
them, to gain an Eſtate. It is not Virtue alone
fuffers by it ; Honour, Decency, Civility, and
all other good Qualities are deſtroy'd, where a
Love to Litigiouſneſs predominates. There is
mo more Juſtice to be had towards others, no
more Refpects of Rank and Qualities, no more
Regard to Age ; Self-love alone wallows all the
sest. There are no
more Thoughts but for ones
Self, no more Talk but of ones
felf, all Friends
are
204 The CHARACTER of
.
are tir’d with the perpetual Proſecution of their
Right, which takes away the Opportunity of
hearing and receiving their Advice. The-
more their Reaſons would enlighten, the
ſtronger is our Obſtinacy, and in their Endea-
vours to reduce as to Truth and Juſtice, they
remove themſelves from our Efterm, and we
neglect their good Counſels, becauſe they diſ-
cover our Defrets. We would be indulg'd in
our Errors ; and of all Errors, the moſt
dangerous is that which we make Choice of,
that is examin'd, that is conſider'd, which
takes us up, which employs us, which troubles
us, which ſatisfie us, which flatters us, which
revenges us, which gives us Wealth, and which
continues to pleaſe us. This is the true Image
of a Law.Suit, and the whole Effect it has on the
Heart of a Litigious Woman. We muſt not ſtand
gazing at the Evils it cauſes, but prevent
them, avoid them, or cure them. Peace will
ſupply us with all the Means ; it is that which.
knows how, and which can only give Quiet
to the Heart and Mind. It teaches us how to
preſerve our Eſtates without Law-ſuits, or
to make uſe of the Law without Offence to God.
mas
空空​空空​空空​空空​空空​***
The Quiet Woman.
Eace is a Bleffing we feek after; the
Churms it poſſeſſes we know not, tho'
P
we concern our ſelves about the Ad.
vantages which it procures us; and
for want of knowing the Value
that its Tranquility affords us, we cannot find .
the
}
& LITIGIOUS WOMAN. 205
the Height of its Perfection. To ſeek after it
effectually, and to find it with Eaſe, we ſhould
• be inform'd of its Cuilities, its Effe£ts, of the
Store of its Comelinefs, of that Stock of Bleſ-
ſing which it affords, of that ſweet and quiet,
· Happineſs which is found only in it. What
Weakneſs is it in the Troubles of a I umu'tuous
Life, full of ſuch Cares as the Mind greedily
catches at, to imagine to find a comfortable.
Peace, which is an abſolute Gift of God, a
Senſe of the Divinity, a State or Temper in
which the Power of outward Things do no
longer act within us, and which being en-
lightned, ſeparated, and diſ-jointed from
Worllly Things, is rais'd above the Fcars and
Deſires which ſuch Things uſually produce. " It
is in theſe Things that Peace conſiſts, in a rea-,
ſonable Vertue, or in a vertuous Reaſon, which
comprehends a juſt Will, and a ſound Judgment,
an Heart ſeriouſly fixed on its Cuties, a Mind
throughly convinc'd of Truth, that perceives
it, follows, and loves it where ever it is. A.
right Regulation of ones Mind and Heart, is
not above us, as we imagine; we are not al-
low'd to raiſe our Knowledge to certain Heights;
but it is poflible for us to redreſs them ſo far as
they are to reach, and as the Excellency of our
Underſtanding depends on Providence, which
indifferently diftributes Common Senſe. Rightt-
ouſneſs and Truth depend on the Violence which
is made to thoſe Paſſions, which oppoſe them-
ſelves to their. Effects. "Every Body may be
perfe&ly rational" if they will, their Reaſon
depends
а
206
The CHARACTER of
depends on their Will, and on their Reaſon de
pends that Peace which it ſeeks after. In the
Bottom of an Heart waſted with a Thouſand
Incumbrances, in the midſt of a Mind that is
croſs’d, and led aftray, and feduc'd by an
Hundred Errors, there is no Peace to be found.
Neither will it be found in the Engagements of
a Soul, carried head-long by its own Inclina.
tions, which freely yields to the Charms of a
conceal’d Paſſion. It's Divine Quiet is quite
oppoſite to thoſe Human Confufons which di..
fturb us : And if we would enjoy a true Peace,
we muſt rightly ſeek after it, in Truth it felf.
A true Peace conſiſts in the Quiet of the Soul,
which nothing can diſturb. We muſt be dir-
ingag'd from thoſe troubleſome Thoughts which
poffeſſes our whole Lives; of that Intereſt which
allows us to attempt any Thing; of that Self-
Love that prepoſſeſſes us,and renders us too ſen-
fible of all things. And this Way, which leads
us to this Peace, is a certain By-Way, unknown
to the Will. The Troubles and Cares of Wealth
and Riches have Charms which deface the
Quiet of Indigency, and we eaſily facrifice our
Tanquility to our Wealth, without
conſidering
that all the Means and Riches of the World
are not worth one Moment of that Tranquility,
or of that Quietneſs that is unalterable; of
that Peace which the Mind feels, which the
Heart loves, and which reigns in a Chriſtian
Soul; but to make it ſenſible before hand of
that Immenfty, of that
eternal Reft that is pre-
pared for it. Reft, Tranquility, and Pruce,
which admits of no paſſionate Vigilance, nor of
any
a LITIGIOUS WOMAN.
207
any deſerved Hatred, nor of Confufon of Af-
fairs, nor of the Trouble of Diſputes, nor of
the Loſs of Time ; but that communicates, by
its .fweet Temper and Contempt of Riches, a
Good Will towards our Neighbour, a Love for
Juſtice, which makes us to avoid all Things
that might diſturb us. And becauſe Law-ſuits
and Cavils expoſe a Soul to an Hundred new
Dangers of offending God, it flies from them,
to the Loſs of its Worldly Intereft ; and when
at any time it finds it ſelf forcibly engag'd
therein, it maintains, it follows, and ends
them, according to Truth, Right, and Juſtice,
Suchá Man's Heart is equally peaceable in the
Tumult of Affairs, makes Uſe of none but
lawful and juſt Means to bring it about ; be-
cauſe he is exempted from that ſervile and
guilty Fear of Lolfes, which Intereſt produces
in thoſe to whom Peace is of leſs Value than
Wealth.
រ
3
Female
208
LINE
தாமpைura
Female Vanity
EXPO S'D.
HO?'all the Paſſions torment, as
gitate, and provoke us, yet there
TI is one that ſtill predominates over
all the reſt, and every one feels
within himſelf a tyrannical Paf-
fion, which being as a Primum Mo-
bile to the reft, drags us where it pleaſes, and
leads us, by its Violence, to an hundred diffe-
rent Diffractions, from which we cannot defend
our ſelves, through thoſe Charms that we find
in it. It is our natural Temper, that makes
choice of one Paſſion to riſe above the reſt; and
commonly every one follows an Opinion ac-
cording to his Inclinations, and a Paſſion ac-
cording to his Nature : But, in this Diſcourſe, I
do not pretend to perſwade this Truth, That
of
all
Female Vanity expos'd. 209
;
;
all the Paſſions, Self. Love is the moſt dangerous.
I only deſign to deſcribe how that Puſſion is ſo
predominant in Women ; and the Reaſons why
they all have the ſame, and that neither Rank
nor Temper can hinder Self-Love from being
the favourite and Darling of that Sex, and to
fway a ſovereign Empire over all Women. Yet
I muſt except thoſe, who, being ſenſible of the
Truth 'I here deliver, wholly employ all their
Cares to fortify themſelves againſt that charm-
ing Propenfity. They ought to fear it above all
others; becauſe it is the moſt natural; the
moſt in Uſe to them, and the moſt common.
That Women are born with it ; their Reaſon
fortifies them in it, and their con lition en-
gages them to it. As they are born more weak
and tender, they favour themſelves in many
Things, and tolerate themſelves in many others;
therefore it is ſo rare to find any Woman ex-
empted from Prepoſſeſſion of the Mind, from a
Tendency for Fopperies, an Obſtinacy'in Op:-
nions, and an inconftancy in all "Things. In a
Concern of Intereſt, a Woman has not the Power
to moderate her violent Temper; and the
Cauſe of this Diſorder, is that Se'f-Love which
over-powers her: That Self-Love, ſo unknown,
and yet ſo imperious, which maſters the Will,
and makes it move according to its own
Pleaſure.
li is of this very Self-Love, that I deſign to
give an Idea : In our felves we have a certain
Senſe, which makes us to deſire that which may
renders us happy, and which prepoffefſes us, that
this Happineſs confifts in the Pleaſures of the
Mind,
:
1
210 Female Vanity expos’d.
Mind, or of the Senſes. Betwixt the Defres of
Happineſs, according to Reafon, and Defires
which are inſpir'd to us by Self-Love, there is
but one Diſtinction : The one incites us to de
fire an Happineſs which we apprehend not,
and which makes us to adore that ſovereign
Principle from whom we expect it; and the
other makes us to deſire ſuch an Happineſs as
we may feel and know ſo ſoon as we defire it.
Voluptuouſneſs is in our Souls through the
Means of Self-Love ; but our Huppineſs is
found there through a Chriſtian Soul's Defres:
On the contrary, from the Defires which Self-
Love inſpires us with, are produc'd all thoſe
various Niceties incident to Women, viz. Pre
posseſſion, Careleſneſs, Vanity, Indulgence, Idic-
neſs, and an Hundred other Defects, which
paſs under the Notion of the natural Qualities
of their Sex. So foon as the Heart is filled with
that In fenfibility, with that Self-Love, with a
Longing after thoſe delectable Things that flat-
ter and pleaſe us, Good-night to Vertue, Rea-
fon, Honour, and all ſuch Things, as require a
Soul rais'd above the common Level. Self-lov:
is the Principle of all the Paſſions, and of all
Vices; it is more difficult to be deſtroy'd than
all the other Defects; its Tyranny being a kind
of Spur, which pricks us on, and
drives us to-
wards our felves, to ſeek after Flattery, and
love our felves.
It is not difficult to love ones ſelf, becauſe it
is a natural Right, and that there is no Being
which concurs not, through a proper Impulſe,
not only to its Converſation, but to its Satit
faction
Female Vanity expos’d. 211
faction alſo. Therefore Self-Love is the firft
Paffion, I mean, the moſt tenacious, tho' not
the ſtrongeſt : It is the moſt natural, the most
mild, the moſt pleaſing, the moſt ſeducing; and
all thoſe Qualities produce great Effects on
Womens Minds; their Complexions, their Tem-
per, their Educations, and their very Ignorance,
render them more ſenſible of that Paſſion, which
ever acts effectually with that Sex. There the
proper Qualities join together, which frame
an Union betwixt themſelves; and that Paſion,
and all thoſe others to which Women abandon
themſelves, are mov'd by that Self-love, which
ſtirs them up but to render them ſubſervient to
its Deſigns, and employs them to aſſiſt it in the
Deſtruction of Virtue and Reaſon.
Indeed if we but reflect upon the mighty Care
and Pains that are continually taken in the
Education of young Women, and more particular-
ly of thoſe who are the beſt able to ſet a Luſtre
upon Virtue by their diſtinguiſhing Rank and
opulent Fortunes, we ought to look down
with Pity, not to ſay Indignation, on their Pa.
rents, who are at ſuch vaſt Expences to make
'em ſo many Scandals of their Families; and
publick Reproaches of their Sex. Religion they
are utter Strangers to ; Virtue they only talk
'
of ; Goodneſs they underſtand not; and every
tender Motion of Compaſſion is odious to 'em,
as fubftracting ſo much from the Felicity of
their Grandeur, that it makes 'em mindful that
Fleſh and Blood may be miſerable: The Affli-
ence of their own Circumſtances makes 'em in-
ſenſible of the common Calamities of a narrow
Fortune,
212 Female Vanity expos’d.
Fortune. The humble Proftration of every one
about 'em fans that raging Fire that Seif.love
had kindled, and by a continu'd : Series if In-
dulgence and Flatiery, they become ſo hården'd
in Self-love, that no human Rea fon can root
it out of their Minds. Therefore, that Self-
love, which indulges her Mind in [gnoránce, and
her Body in Eaſe, inſpires, her with voluptu.
cus Inclinations; alſo after it has brought her
up to uſeleſs Trifles, ſo ſoon as Reafon appears;
Self-love preſents her with agreeable Objecis
wherewith to ſeduce her, entertains the Jud
ment with Projects and Defigns that are uſeful
and delightful and, according to her Heart's
Inclinations, it gives her up to ſome Condition
ſeemingly agreeable; it even deprives of all
Pains and Troubles thoſe Pleafurts which it pro-
poſes, and that you which Self-love promiles
to the Accompliſhment of (ur Defires, appears
without Mixture; it never mixes Pleaſure with
thoſe bitter Things which are felt in the Ure
of Pleaſure, and when a Woman would check
her ſelftr the falſe Opinion which ſhe had con-
ceiv'd of Pleafures, ingenious Self-love, flatters
her with what is to come, and makes her to
wiſh for thoſe Delights that it repreſents, to
deceive her ſo long as it poſſeſſes her. There
are ſtill but its meaneft Effects; it is that which
makes Women to neglect the Efteem of Men, or
that makes us to ſeek too earneſtly after it. (*)
With what do you think is a Wiman prepoffeff.
ed, which engages her Heart, and endeavours
* The wanton and looke Woman,
to
Female Vanity expos'd. 213
섏
​H
to gain others, where Friendſhip has much leſs
to do than Love,, if not with an exceſſive Self-
love, which obliges her to ſeek after her ſelf, in
ftrange Objects, and to inſpire the ſame Défires
in the Heart of that Perfon which has produc'd
it firſt in hers? She communicates that Self-love
which ſhe feels in her ſelf: She carries her Puf-
fon to that Perſon in whom ſhe finds her Delight,
and under the Pretence of loving one another,
they both effectively love but themſelves. But
that is not all, Self-love is as great a Friend to
Intereſt, as it is to Voluptuouſnefs : Thoſe Wg
men who are obſerv'd to ſeek after advantage-
ous Friendſhips with all the careful Complaiſances
imaginable; thoſe who under laborious Em-
ploys conceal that Satisfaction which they
expect from their Lubours, are not leſs ſubject to
Self-love than thoſe that abandon themſelves
to a ſoft and idle Life,
There is a Self-love that will endure Labour,
as there is a careleſs one ; yet they are ſtill the
fame; and a Veil of Piety, which draws Reſpect,
is no leſs a Self-love, than the Splendor of a
pleaſing Gullantry. Thoſe are deceiv'd that
believe that Self-love reigns only amongſt wan-
ton and looſe Women, that it only abides a-
mongſt them that are poſſeſs’d with Voluptuouſ-
nefs, Softneſs, Eaſe, Vunity, Obftinacy, Pride,
Senſuality, and the Care of gratifying their
Puſſions, and to yield to the Senſes of all the
Pleaſures which each in particular requires.
Thus we have demonſtrated our firft Point;
to proceed now to the ſecond, (viz. the Bigots)
Is it not evident, that it is not only the gallant,
wanton,
>
5
.
214
Female Vanity expos’d.
wanton, looſe Women, that are liable to theſe Dia
fects; but thoſe that profeſs Piety as well as thoſe
that glory in Diſorders, have a Stock of Self-love,
which renders Vices familiar to them as well
as to others, becauſe they take too little Care
to ſuppreſs it, 'It is frequently obferv'd that
thoſe who pretend moſt to Devotion, are thoſe
that love themſelves moſt : And amongſt ſo
many Virtues they boaſt of, there is not a Grain
of Charity to be found ; of that Charity, which
in obliging them to love GOD above all Things,
Thould at the ſame Time incline them perfect-
Iy to hate themſelves. And that is the Reaſon,
that in this ſeeming and pretended Regularity,
there are always found ſome Reliques of the
Old Adam ; wherefore you ſhall find your Bigot
Women always more ready to reſent an Injury,
than thoſe from whom one would expect the
moſt paſſionate Returns. They have leſs of
Anger, outwardly, but more of Revenge with-
in; becauſe that the Habit of Moderation ren-
ders their firſt Motions more calm, and the
ſecond more durable ; and Self-love takes fpe-
cial Care to preſerve in their minds the Ře-
membrance of the leaſt Injury, which Charity
might eaſily wipe off, if it lodg’d in their
Hearts. _The Ignorance of Women is a very fur-
priſing Thing, it overpowers all their Šenfes,
and Self-love is the Cauſe of it. No ſenſible
Woman would flatter, applaud injuftly, tole-
rate, and pardon their own Faults, tho' very
conſiderable, if they did not love themſelves
ſo much better than others. We muſt be con.
vinc'd of the flattering Manner, in which Self-
love
Female Vanity expos’d. 215
.
3
܀
3
love preſents our evil Inclinations to us, and
we can never be too ſevere againſt it, when
we would have it do Juftice.
It is this Mixture of Mildneſs and Sea
verity that a Woman is to provide herſelf with
as to her Conduct of Severity in what concerns,
herſelf, and of Mildneſs in reſpect to others
Her Mildneſs to others faves her from Slander,
and her Severity towards herſelf, will place
her above Self-love, that Paſſion ſo difficult to
be overcome, as being the moſt univerſal and
amiable.
As to thoſe Women that are not number'd a-
mongſt the former for WantonnefsPiety, or Wit,
but lead a retir'd Life, are afliduous in their
Affairs, and apply themſelves in managing
thoſe Means they have ſuitable to their own
Conditions ; they alſo are not wholly ſhelter'd
from the woful Effects of Self-love, which fre-
quently is the Motive of their Houſewifery, and
that, makes them avoid all Superfluities : but
as this Self-love is of an inſatiable Nature, it
frequently ſcrews Occonomy up to Avarice.' A
Woman Thall deny herſelf thoſe Things that are
neceffary, through the Satisfaction the feels in
the Hopes of a future Heap of Wealth, while at
the ſame Time the procures to herfelf a preſent
and real Want, of which ſhe is not ſenſible thro'
the Blindneſs of Self-love : And this is ſo cer-
tain, that amongſt ſuch Women of an ordinary
Condition, who, for the Benefit of their Fumilies,
are concern'd in ſome way of Trade, there is
obſerv'd ſuch a Store of Self-love, as governs all
their Actions. It is very rare to find a Woman
who
216 Female Vanity expos'd.
a
who takes Buſineſs upon her with a Spirit of
Meekneſs and of Carefulneſs, and who has no
other Aim in it than her Duty, and the Fear
of God. Never did the Praiſe and Repreſenta-
tion of the Virtuous Woman inention'd in the
Scripture, appear a meer Idea (of which the
a
Reality can never be found) more than in this
Age ; and the Cauſe of it is that Self-love,
which deprives Women of all thoſe excellent
Qualities which the Scripture expreſſes as moſt
neceſſary to render a Womun perfect
. So long
as a Wornun yields to thoſe ſecret Impulſes that
eſtrange from a ſevere Juſtice, ſhe is incapable
of Perfection ; I ſay,
the Severity of Juſtice, be-
I
cauſe Nature has a Tendency that is imperfect,
which oppoſes it felf to Right, and which
makes that even indifferent Things become
difficult to her. It is but with great Informa
tion, and many Strugglings, that a Woman can
overcome ſuch a natural Propenfty, which leads
her out of the Way of Perfiction. How can
the moſt part of the Women be able to uſe that
generous Way of tearing themſelves from their
Self-love, to give themſelves up to Wiſdom
If therefore this. inſinuating Quality can
find Ways and Means to ſupplant our Reaſon,
what can we expect from thoſe Ladies whoſe
Lives have been but one continued Thread
of Gairly, Illeneſs, Ignorance, Vanity, and
Voluptuoufnefs ? How can this curſed Pallion be
extirpated after ſo long an Empire, rivetted ſo
firmiy by the continued Indulgencies of Flatter-
ers in Acquaintance, Flatterers in Converſation,
Flatterers in the most private Retirements with
their
Female Vanity expos'd. 217
their own Domeſticks? In a Word, they ſuck'd
it in with their Milk, and all their Infancy.
was nourilh'd up in a Thouſand Opportunities
of creating Self-Love, if Nature peradventure
had not ſuperſeded that Misfortune in our
Education. There is a vaſt Diſtance betwixt
idle Converſations, perpetual Gaming, ſlothful
infipid Aſſemblies, and virtuous Employments
that are continual. Self-Love manages too
well its own Intereſt with thoſe women that
are given up to Gaming, to pleaſe them
within ſight of that Abyſs, which is betwixt
their Conduct and the Maxims of a Chriſtian
Lift, through which they can not paſs. And
I wonder not that Self-Love which governs all
Women, leaves not one Moment at the Game-
ftrefs's Diſpoſal, but to play in, or deſire to
do ſo : If they had but ſome free Moments
from that Preposſeſſion, they could not behold
the Idleneſs of their paft Life without propo-
ſing to themſelves a more uſeful After-time :
And that is one of the ſecret Politicks of Self-
Love, ſo to gild over the Object that amures
them, that they ever be employ'd in it: Tho'
really Gaming can never be call’d an Employ,
being only a kind of moving Illeneſs, or a Di
verhon from better Things, which ſhould ne-
ver be us'd, but to afford Nature fome Mo-
ments, of Reft, to gratify its Weakneſs. But
Self-Love, that feducing Paffion, never propo-
ſes ſuch Ways to Women, but to ſurfeit them,
and make them give up their whole Time and
Hearts to that Fooliſhneſs which ſo well agrees
with that Paffiong that cauſes it to be ſo en-
Vol. V.
L
tirely
.
218 Female Vanity expos'd.
a
tirely belov’d; for Self-Love ſupports that Ilea
nefs of the Mind and Body, which feeds and
siourifhes it felt; it fills the Soul, but does
not nouriſh it; it is wholly devoted to that
Preposſeſſion that lulls-it afteep, and renders it
intentible and incapable of embracing thoſe
Refletions and Ideas, with the Inſpirations,
and all the Impulſes which Grace and Reason
promote, in order to enlighten them.
Bur this Self-Love has to well eſtabliſh'd it
felf.in the Hearts of Women, through that Max-
im, that thereby it is not only become the
Cauſe of this foft and motionleſs Way of
Living, but it is the Cauſe alſo of a Thouſand
Pains and Labours, that are annex'd to ano-
ther Character. It is the fame Self-Love, that
is the Principle of thoſe painful and laborious
Things in which Law-ſuits engage Women.
Under thoſe melancholy wakeful Nights and
bright Days, without Reft and Quiet, is con-
ceal'd the moſt invincible and moſt nice Self-
Love imaginable : It is in the Practice of thoſe
mcan and toilfome Solicitations, that they
find the moſt rooted good Opinion of them-
felves. Women never love themſelves better,
than when it is at the Charges of all the
Troubles that they moſt abhor, to enjoy the
Pleaſures which they deſire; yet it would be
an hard Tafk to make them acknowledge a
Truth which they both feel and love, and
which they will not own, but becauſe they
would not part with their Pleafure. The Pain's
and Diforders which thoſe Lare-Cavils and
Cuſtom breed, are produc'd by Self-Love, and
:
<
No
Female Vanity expos’d. 219
1
no Wonner can deny (it fhe is fincere) but that
it is that Silf-Love which animates her, when
the takes upon her thofe repeated Cares,
which pleaſe her in the midft of a Thouſand
different Vexations that incompaſs her Mind.
Self-Love has in it ſomething that is ſo
agreeable to Women, that when once Nature has
deliver'd them up to its Power, they are not
contented to paſs their whole Lives in the Ca.
ſtom which that Paſion makes them to con.
tract, but they alſo nouriſh, foment, and in-
creaſe this Paſſion in themſelves; and not ſtop-
ping there, as they entertain it themſelves, they
communicate it to others; for it is a Poifon
with which one becomes infected by meer Con-
verſation, ſo dangerous and imperceptible, that
it cannot be curd, except it be known before
olje is tainted with it; or fuch Care be taken
to deſtroy it, with as much Diligence as there
is taken to preſerve it. I wiſh Women would
frequently frame to themſelves an Idea of this
belov'd Paſſion, and that they would but dive
into the Nature and Effects of it, thereby to
avoid its Power and Charms, and not become
Slaves to an effeminate Pallion, which derives
from the moſt illuftrious Paſſion in Man. For
no Body can doubt but that Love is the No.
bleſt of all the Paſſions ; and it is certain, that
through our firſt Father's Sin that ſublime and
natural Love of Man is degenerated into a
guilty and ſenſual Love, and that the Spring
of Bliſs is become the Principle of a Thou-
fand Evils ; becauſe that Nature which was
temper'd with Grace, and whofe Inclinations
e?
be
D
L 2
were
i
220 Female Vanity expos’d.
1
were laudable and holy, predominating Cha-
rity, deſtroying, Self-love, and not allowing
to love our ſelves but in GOD alone, has
chang'd its Nature. Man has no longer look'd
on Objeéis with the ſame Eyes he did before;
the profitable and pleaſing Things have at-
tracted his Deſires ; he has loſt the Reliſh of
Innocence ; Self-Love is become his Aim, his
Motive, and his Principle ; he has no longer
had a Regard to pleaſe GOD in all Things
but himſelf; he has ever ſince valued himſelf,
that fatal Metamorphoſis, and after he had de-
generated from that bleſſed Way, wherein he
liv'd plentifully in the earthly Paradiſe, he
has yielded himſelf up to an inordinate Love
of himſelf, even in the midſt of Indigence and
the Wants of a corrupt Nature'; ſo that from
the happy Efate in which GOD had plac'd
him, he has plung’d himſelf into that Abyſs
of Miſeries and Sorrows, in which he remain'd,
until the Coming of Chriſt. Not that this
Miſſion of Chriſt, which has expung'd the
Guilt of the old Adam, was to re-eſtabliſh
Man in that Perfection in which he was at
firſt; but to confer on him the Redeemer's
Grace, to enable him to enter into it by Vis-
lence and the Excellency of the Redemption is
an Advantage to buman Nature, becauſe that
in the firſt Man there was nothing difficult in
the Perfection of his Virtue ; but in the new
Man he earneſtly concurs, by his Will united
to Grara, to the Perfe&tion of his Merits; and
He is ſo much above his firſt State by Fuith,
that he cannot but acknowledge how much
Nature
1
1
.
Female Vanity expos’d. 221
y
Nature has been advanc'd fince Chrif Jefus
has purify'd it, by his Coming, his Word, and
his Grace. By the New Law Man finds him-
ſelf to be a Difciple of a Crucify'd GOD, who
came to teach Men to become Offerings, and
to make them comprehend, that, to the Con-
fupon of the Devil, he did enable him to tri-
umph over a perverſe Nature, and to be a Suf-
ferer in Heart and Mind, that he might be-
come a Citizen of Glory and of Blefjedneſs.
But what was this World that was to be
deſtroy'd, thoſe Enemies that were to be 0-
vercome, but that Store of Self-Love which
had the Maſtery over the first Man! That
Love of himſelf, and of his own Intereſt, that
had plung d him into a perpetual Labour, and
an infallible Deab, to which we have all
been ſubjected! It was the firſt Motive of his
Loſs, and is frequently the Cauſe of ours;
that is, the Monſter which is to be vanquilh'd
by Gruct, which is given us, and about the
Deſtruction of which we ought continually to
be employ'd. It is againſt this ſo natural, yet
ſo forbidden Self-Love, that we muſt have a
perpetual Warfare, lince our Reward is an-
nex'd to the Victory over that Paſſion, and
that whoſoever does not hate himſelf, muſt
not pretend to thofe Recompences, reſerv'd on-
ly for thoſe that love none but GOD. But
if it is ſo difficult for the wifeſt and beſt of
Men, abſolutely to deſtroy that Enemy; and
that ſo long as we live, we retain that here-
ditary Mark of the firſt Infraction of the Law
of GOD, how much more difficult muſt it
be
:
L 3.
222 Female Vanity expos’d.
be to a weak, frail, inconſtant Sex, and (to
fpeak more home yet) ſuch a one-as is fo
cloſely link'd to that enjoy'd Effect, to pre-
ferve it felf from that I'lufion of Nature and
of the Levil, and to overcome a Tendency,
which forces it not to any Thing, but leaves
it in a foft Idleneſs, in which thoſe that love
themſelves continually remain! What Likely-
hood for Women, who rarely examine them.
ſelves in order to be inſtructed, and that of
every kind of Knowlrdge entertain but a bare
Defire in the H:art, but not in their Memory,
to withdraw themſelves from thoſe favoura-.
ble Reflections, from that perpetual Return,
which is nothing elſe but a Circulation which
their imagination and will make upon them-
ſelves, which always terminates in a Self A
plauſe, as ſecret as unjuſt! What Means is
there, I ſay, for thoſe tender Ferfons, accu-
fom'd to a Self-Love, to divorce themſelves
from that Corruption wlrich their Nat!!re and
Eluation have communicated to them ! How
would you have a Woman to be capable of Re-
Portion, and worthy to be intruſted, whoſe
Weakneſs permits her not to keep a Secret
even with thoſe ſhe loves, nor to maintain the
Intereſt of Truth againſt thoſe ſhe fears ! It is
the Effeet of Self-Love in Women which gives
them that great Inclination to divulge what
they know of Evil conceal'd in others, never
being capable to keep in Silence that hich
is particularly confided to them. Wherefore,
as a natural Puriſhment of Temper,. thole that
are ſo bold in the Concerns of others, are ve-
ту
a
a
Female Vanity expos do 233
us.
ry fearful on thoſe of Truth; and you ſhall
but rarely ſee them take with Zeal the part of
ſuch Perſons as are oppreſs'd, tho' they be
never ſo ready at the Diſcovery of the Defects
of thoſe Perſons they are acquainted with;
and this cruel Condúet is the common Efect of
Self-Love. When once we love our Telves,
we cannot reſolve to ſay ſuch Things of others
as would cauſe them to be belov'd, nor to con-
ceal the Eſteem Men have for us, by the Con-
cealment of the Secret by them intruſted to
A Woman fancies ſhe may acquire great E-
ftrem from her own Indiſcretion, and a great
Advantage from her Complaiſanct; and that
falſe Opinion continues her in the Practice of
thoſe evil Muxims, and always keeps her cloſe
to that Stock of ſelf-Love which makes her
azt in that manner. .
In this Caſe, the Effects ſupport the Cauſe ;
Self Love produces those evil Fancirs that
are the Cauſes of a Thouſand unit and 11-
reafonable Ations; and theſe irregular Ar.
ons, in their Tur, maintain the Soul in thoſe
evil Pra&tices which afterwards return to their
Spring, to take and give ſuch new fatal Pow-
ers as conduce only
to Corruption and Difor-
der. This is the Effect of Self-Love, which
may be term'd an Evil that contains all cos
thers; fince there is no Diſorder in the World
which does not acknowledge that Paſſion to
be its Principle: And I am of Opinion, that
Chriſtianity, Polity, and Morals, cannot make
an konft
. Man of a Man that too much loves
;
143
himſelt
S.
224 Female Vanity expos’d.
himſelf; Juftise being neceſſary in all Condi.
isons, but cannot ſublift with Self-Love, which
always takes the Part of Voluptuouſneſs and
Pleafures, never conſidering that Submiſſion
which the Body owes to the Mind, and how
we are oblig'd co do Violence to our ſelves, in
order to ſubdue our Lufts. Self-Love gives a Li-
cence to our Inclinations, and leaves our Defres
free in their Diſorders, not buſying it felt,
but to flatter our Mind, to render pleaſing to
us the Cuſtom of hearkening to its Allurements,
and ſo to order Things, that we may not be
poſſeſs’d but with a good Cpinion of our ſelves;
and to make us fingular even in publick Con-
cerns, by preferring our ſelves before all Things
elſe, and not obſerving the Law but with all
the Refervedneſs that it propoſes to us, ba-
nilhing all thoſe ſevere and laborious L'uties
wherewith we cannot diſpenſe nor exempt our
ſelves from without being guilty.
Self-Love is oppoſite to the Law, and to
Worthinefs; it affords us no Drfres but for
Greatneſs, for Beauty, or for Riches; ſetting aſide
Ambition, Voluptuouſneſs, and Avarice, no-
thing pleaſes it : And it is by thoſe unhappy
Paffions that we preſerve Self-Love, as it is
by the fame Self-Love that we preſerve thoſe
three Paſſions in our Hearts. It is becauſe we
love our ſelves, that we would be rais'd above
others: It is that ſame Love, which makes us
to deſire thoſe Objects, which we fancy may
increaſe our Delights. It is on the fame Ac-
count alſo that we accumulate Wealth, that
the more we have of our own, the leſs we
may
Female Vanity expos’d. 225
may depend on others, and have more to de-
pend on us. This unhappy Cuftim, eſtabliſhd
by Intereft, infuſes ſuch Thoughts in the Cgo
vetous, that in effect they daily fee People of
the beſt Rank renounce the lawful Riu bts
which they have receiv'd from their Ance-
Alors, and yield their Rank, ſubmit their Rea-
fon, and what is more, ſacrifice Truth, to ac-
quire ſome ſmall Means, or' meerly to gain
the Eftcem of thoſe that are Wealthy; and
this with'a Deſign to confirm or increaſe their
Reputation, believing that Reputation depends
on the Recommendation of thoſe whom Richis
has brought into Credit : So that Self-Love
has the Art of rendring covetous not only
thoſe who poſſeſs Wealth, but even thoſe al-
ſo that have none. It is not leſs through a Prin-
ciple of Covetouſneſs that we do an ill Thing
to gain Wealth, as that we hoard it up when
got. It is the fame to follow a rich Man that
avoids us, as to fly from a poor Man that pur.
fues us. A Man is as covetous in hunting af.
ter Wealth, as in hoarding it up; and Self-
Love is not leſs buſy in the one than in the
other; for we love our felves in relation to
our Fortune, when we hate our felves in rela-
tion to Honour. And Women are very apt to
embrace that kind of Covetouſneſs which is
brought forth by Sef-Love : They conſider
Perſons but in reference to their Fortunr; and
the Abundance of their Walıb is the Standard
of their Eftrem : They alſo meaſure a Man's
Merits by the Largeneſs of his Purſe for
when they go about to praiſe any Perſon, his
Wealtb
1's
5
226 Female Vanity expos'd.
Wealeh has a great Share in it; and they rare.
ly beſtow the like Praiſes on a Perſon indow'd
with all the V rtues, when Fortune is averſe to
him; and this is, becauſe Self-Love will not
permit a Woman to praiſe another's Merits,
who has nothing but his good Qualities to be
admir'd for, and no Meuns to feed their Hope
with. So true it is, that we love intirely our
felves, and that we cannot applaud nor ingage
a Perſon from whom we promiſe not to our
felves ſome particular Advantage in ſome man
ner or other, and on whom we fix isot our
Hopes of fome Advantuge ; which is the Cauſe
of the Good we do others, by the juftifying
their Conduct, or proclaiming their Virtues.
It is the Spring of all Evils, of all Vices, and
of all Errors, that Self-Love is fo extended, and
ſo fecret. Why is it not purſu'd with the ſame
Zeal to deſtroy it, that the Apoftles and Mura
tyrs of former Times were animated with, to
facrifice it to the ſevere Yoke of Penitence, or
to Martyrdom How beautiful would it ap-
pear in theſe Days ? I mean not thoſe bloody
Offerings that maintain the Truth of Relig
on ; but thoſe godly Retirements, where Tears
were abundantly ſhed, for the Converſion of
Sinners : Thoſe Aſſemblies of Illuſtrious Vir.
gins, which were fo eſteem'd more through
Virtues than their Births, that paſs’d their
Lives in the ſevere Exerciſe of a Mortifica-
tion as continual as voluntary : Thoſe Vir-
gins, who were ſo many Examples for thoſe of
our Az, ant which it is much to be fear'd,
will be the only Example that will remain for
future
Female Vanity expos'de 227
1
1
1
a
future Ages, thoſe Virgins, I ſays in whom
the more Şelf-love, did murmur, agitare itſelf,
act, and sellift, the more it did enable them to
oppoſe įts, Furys and whoſe Defres, animated
by a couragious and inſpird Will, had over-
came all the Impulfes of a rebellious and corrupt
Nuture : But all the Withes that I could expreſs
on this Oecahon, would be as uſeleſs as the
Words which I write. Tho'all thoſe Writings
that blame Self-bave, bę never ſo much feen and
read, and thole Impulfes that condemn. it felta
it is tronger than all, and it would be impollia -
ble to
1 which incourages us and raiſes us up: Which
Grace is never wanting to us, if we require iç
with a real Defire to obtain it. It is frequently
the Careleſnefs of making the Requeft, that ren-
ders the Prayer fruitleſs. We must make Ulei
of Zeal to obtain the Victory over a Paſſioring
which dulls our Will, and that cannot be vana
quilh'd without Fervor, becauſe that of all the
Baffrons it is that which is moſt friendly to
Reſt: All the other Paſſions cannot uſe their,
Wiolence, without agitating our Hearts, our
Bodies, and our Minds; but Self-love acts with
all its Power in the moſt; perfect Tranquility
and cauſes neither Motion ur Agitation in us.
Its evil A&tions can naturally abide in the moſt
quiet Condition and Situation in which any
Creature can be; if may have a Self-love even to
Exceſs, and tho' ſometimes this Pafion is found
in the midt of Troubles, it is alſo met with in
Tranquility; that for which Reaſon it is fo
common to Women, the ſoft and eaſy Lite they
lead,
.
228 Female Vanity expos'd.
1
1
a
3
lead, thoſe Fooleries that amuſe them in a fenſe-
Jeſs and continual Idleneſs, is a Bait for Self-
love ; and it is very natural to love ones felf
extremely, when one leads ſuch a Life as
Women do now a Days. I wonder not, that in
the Opinion of the Wiſeft Perfons, all'the Vir.
tues that women ſeem to have, are ſuſpected,
and that it is difficult to imagine that any per-
fect Thing can be produc'd from that which is
not ſo of it ſelf; for commonly thoſe outward
Appearences of Modefty, which might be the
Arguments of Piety, are but thoſe of Superftition
and Bigotry; their firmneſs is but a pure Ot-
ftinacy, and their Mirth is always mix'd with
à World of Indiſcretion."
But how comes it to paſs, that what would
be counted laudable Qualities and even Virtue
in others, becomes Vice and Diſorders in them?
It is becauſe Self-love makes Choice of thoſe
Virturs which they profeſs: They incline to
Piety, becauſe they are naturally inclin'd to a
quiet and ſober Life, and frequently alſo, be-
cauſe they love Šlander better than they do
Voluptuoufnrfs ; for under that Veil they fancy
that they may talk of others, while they take
from others all Occaſion to ſpeak of them. They
maintain theirOpinions without Reafon and Inter-
miſſion; not becauſe they underſtand, but becauſe
they love them; and the Reaſon that they never
yield, is, becauſe thoſe falſe Ideas with which they
prepoſſeſs themſelves; Itand them in Atead of true
Reufon,and they would have them to paſs ſo with
others; and that their bad Reüfons are preferr'd
to thoſe good ones that are given them; and
that
Female Vanity expos’d. 229
that the laſt that ſpeaks they repute to be in
the right; they are always ſure to be on the
beft Side in that reſpect : But, moreover, when
they allow themſelves any pleaſant Converſa.
tion of Wit, it is never with the neceſſary
Moderation that ſhould authorize it. They al-
ways addict themſelves to Things beyond Mea-
ſure ; their Seriouſneſs is forc'd, and their Joy
extravagant ; and that Point of Virtue which
leaves the Soul in an equal Temper, is not
found amongſt them, becauſe Self-love does al-
ways lead them to the moft blaméable Extr mi.
ties, and permits them not to perceive the Ex-
ceſs, which ſpoils all Things but in other Pere
fons, and never in themſelves. That Self-love
does fo blot out all the good Qualities in Wo-
men, that tho' they may be capable of Learning
and Policy, it is always with ſo much Preposefa
fion, that their Pride and Subtilty is ſooner diſ-
cover'd than their Application and Prudencr.
You never ſee, in Buſineſs of the Mind
and Underſtanding, a Woman act like an un-
derſtanding Man; there is ſtill fome Grains of
Pride and of Weakneſs in them, that ſpoils all
they do or underſtand, and it is not without
Reaſon that Cuſtom has barr'd them from the
Knowledge of the Sciences.
Moſt frequently Study ſpoils a Woman more
than it improves her, and their own Nature,
cultivated by a right Rrafon, is always more
folid and more agreeable, than when their
Brains have been tormented to learn, more
with Deſign to feem to know, than to know
Kcally. Their quick Apprebenfion may ſome-
times
230Female Vanity expos'd.
1
times carry them ſo far as to conceive fome right
Ideas of great Things ; but that fix'd Temper of
.
the Mind that is neceffary to ſupport that first
Actemps, is not to be found in them : Their
Reflections are ſo far from ſtrengthening the lieu,
that it blots it out ; and that pleaſes them in
the Agreeableneſs of any great Defgn that they
propoſe to themſelves, yields to the Satisfaction
they take to deſtroy that Reſolution which they
had taken; and becauſe this Mutability of Opi-
nions is natural, by reaſon of that Self-love
that predominates in them, they neither are
very Wife nor very Learn'd, and yet they might
attain to either with more Eaſe than Men, if
they would but apply themſelves to deſtroy that
Paſſion of Self-love.
It is a Propofeſſion without Senf, and a Nicke.
а
ty without Reaſon, that deprives them of all
thoſe great Parts for which their natural Time
per ſeems to be fram 'd, if their Self-lour was,
but put away, and that through a worthy
Refolution they force themſelves from the
Power of that deceitful Charm that keeps ther:
continually in Play.
An Underſtanding Woman would certainly go
beyond any Man, her quick Apprehenfion, her
Penetration, her Nicety, the Heat of her
Courage,
and the Subtilty of her Ideus, which are mov'd
hy a more ſudden Motion than in Men, would:
render her capable of the higheſt Enterprizes,
and of the moſt ſudden Execution: And at the
fame Time, that Flame that renders her tempea
rate when ſhe pleafes, would make eaſy thoſe
tedious Ways, through which they are to paſs tas
attain
Female Vanity expos'do 23.1
attain to Reputation, to Fortune, and to Virtw :
Then nothing would be difficult to a Sex ta
which now nothing is ſcarce pollible, becaule.
Sulf-love makes all Pains ſeem unfufferable to
them, all Çares troubleſome, all Employments
unealy, and ſetting aſide the Pleafures which
they deſign, all Things elle appear dull. It is
with Conftraint that Tome Moments are allow'd
to the Performance of Things which Luty and
Neceffity obliges them to do : Thoſe Moments
are found ſo tedious, tho' never ſo fort, that
the meaneſt Mot ves that can but exempt them
from performing thoſe Du ies, appear very
reaſonable, that they preſently embrace them,
and all becomes reaſonable enough to engage
us to abandon Reaſon.
Theſe are the Weakneſſes, the Injuft:ce, and
Diforders, that Self-love brings us to. We cane
not free our ſelyes trom it, but by fuch a gene.
rous Contempt of our ſelves, as may free us
from thoſe too great Concerns that we have for
our own Interifts, and that inſpires us with a
neceſſary Exactneſs, a Severity that checks the
meaneſt Defiets: Thoſe vertuous Qua'ities which
are formd in a profound Humility, are the
Principles of the other Virtues : Accompliſh
ment is annex'd to the Practice thereof, it ſan-
Etifies all the natural Motions of the Heart; and
thoſe brave Women of former Ages, that have
been Examples to Pofterity, were filld with
Hatred of themſelves. No Perſon can be above
the Croſſes of Fortune, and of the Accidents of
this Life, but thoſe that are above themfelves.
No Perſon can be capable of enjoying a right
Reufon,
232
Female Vanity expos’d.
Reaſon, and perfect Health, but ſuch as can
overcome and hate themſelves. Wherefore
no Woman ought to fancy her ſelf rational, wiſe,
and accompliſh d, that entertains any Self-love.
Women, in other reſpects, have ſo many Privi-
leges above Men, that it ſhould animate them
to overcome a Paſſion which renders them in-
ferior to Men. It is not a thing impoſſible, that
ſuch an Accompliſhment requires of them; they
may, without leſſening their Fortune, their Cre-
dit, their Beauty, their Quiet, render them.
ſelves worthy of the Eſteem of the moſt judici-
ous ; they need but to entertain a little more
of good Order, of Truth, and of Juſtice in their
Conceptions, in their Diſcourſes, and in their
Conduct ; then would Self-love ſoon be turn'd
out of their Souls, baniſh'd from the World,
and to the Honour of the fair Sex, we ſhould
be oblig'd to acknowledge, that they had been
greater Conquerors in the ſubduing of that Paf-
fron, than all the Courage and Valour of Men
have çertorm'd in ſo many Ages.
The
1
OF
HOIS
ithin
Toe Haines. Epilogue.
VOLV
7,233,
( 233 )
SKMINE
WILL
The EPILOGUE written by Mr.
Brown, and spoke by Jo. Haines,
in the Habit of an Horſe-Officer,
mounted on an Afs.
OU have ſeen (before now) ſince
this Shape-lhewing Age,
Y
More Alles than mine, on a Beave
crowded Stage,
Wherefore by tb’Example of fam'd
Dogget, my Brother,
To thew our Stage has Aſſes, as well as the other;
Thus mounted I'm come, to invite
ye oft hither,
To Beaumont and Fletcher, thus coupled together;
My Fancy, bis Judgment, my Perſon, bis Face,
With the mighty good Intereft he has in this Place;
For indeed, as I'm told, pray
let me not wrong y,
My Aſs has Relations,
and Great ones amongge;
In the Galleries, Side-Boxes, on the Stage, in the
Pit,
What's your Critick, your Beax, your Keeper,
your Wit &
Your
234
Mr. BROWN's Rėmains.
1
a
Your fighting Aſs is a Bully,
Your ſneaking Aſs is a Cit;
Your keeping Afs is a Cully,
But your Top, prime As is your Wit.
They all fool Cit of his Wifi.
He fools 'em all of their Pelf;
But your Wit's ſo damn'dan Afs,
He only fools himſelf.
Writing one Play a Year, for a Wir he'd paſs,
His lean third Day makes out to him be's an Afs.
Ben't I an Afs now, thus to mount my Brother,
But he that's pleas'd with it too, is not he anco
(ther?
Are we not Alles all ('twixt me and you)
To part with our old Monry 'till we were fure
(of new ?
[Fine old Money.
Since then fo many Alles here abound,
Where an eternal Link of Wit goes round;
No Post ſure will think it a Diſgrace,
To be ally'd to this accompiſh'd Afs,
But he's a Critick, you may riad it in his Face.
As for bis Courag', truly I can't ſay much,
Yet, he might ferve for a Troeper among the
(Dutch..
Tho of their side I'm ſure he'd never Fight,
His Puffive Obedience feews I'm in the Righi.
{Whips. the Afs often, wobo, by: reufon of
hiš innate Dulnefs, never finebes for
He's a Courtier, fit to appear before a Queen.
Advance, Bucephalus! View but his. Mien:
Lalirs, I'm ſure you like his fruce Behaviour ;
E ne'er knew ought but Afes in your
Favour.
a
Fair
Mr. Mountford's Elegy. 235
Fair Ones, at what I ſay, take no Offence,
For
When his Degree a Lover does commence,
You coin an Aſs out of a Man of Senfi.
Your Braux's, that ſoften fo your flinty Hearts,
They are Alliso Taylors make them Men of
(Parts,
Now, ſome have told me, this might giveOffence,
That riding my Aſs thus, is riding the Audience:
But what of that? The Brother rides the Brother;
The Son the Father, we all ride one another.
Then for a Jeft, for this Time, let it paſs;
For he that
takes it ill, I'm ſure's an Aſs.
otsetoetsekretersedgetreten Regretsest:
betegresoesede
The Ladies Lamentation for their Ado-
nis : Or, an EL EGY on the Deatb
of. Mr. Mountford the Player.
1.
Oor
Mountford is gone
and the Ladies do all
Break their Hearts for this Brail, as they
(did for D'Vul,
And they the two Brats for this Tragedy damn,
At Kenſington-Court, and the Court of Bantam..
They all vow and ſwear,
That if any Peer
Shou'd acquit the young Lord, he ſhou'd pay
(very dear;
Nor will they be pleas'd with him, who on
(Throne is,
If he do's not his Part, ta revenge their Adonis.
With
236 Mr. BROWN'S Remains.
II.
With the Widow, their amorous Bowels do
(yearn;
There are divers pretend to an equal Concern;
And, by her Perſuaſion, their Hearts they re-
(veal,
In caſe of not guilty to bring an Appeal.
They all will unite,
The young Blades to indite,
And in Proſecution will joyn Day and Night;
In the mean while,full many a Tear and Groan is,
Where'er they meet, for their departed Adonis,
III.
With the Ladies foul Murder's a horrible Sin,
Of one handſome without, tho' a Coxcomb
(within ;
For not being a Beau, the ſad Fate of poor Crab,
Tho'himſelf hang'd for Love, was a Jeft to each
(Drab:
Then may Jer’my live long,
And may Riſby among
The Fair, with Jack Barkley, and Culpeper
(throng;
May no Ruffian, whoſe Heart as hard as a Stone is,
Kill any of theſe for a Brother Adonis.
IV.
No Lady henceforth can be ſafe with her Beau,
They think, if this Slaughter unpuniſh'd thou'd
(go;
Their Gallants, for whoſe Perſons they moſt are
(in Pain,
Muft no ſooner be envy'd, but ftrait muſt be flain.
For
a
Mr. Mountford's Elegy. 237
(rare,
For all Bracegirdle's Shape,
None car'd for the Rape,
Nor whether the Virtuous their Luſt did eſcape,
Their Trouble of Mind, and their Anguilh alone,
(is
For the too ſudden Fate of departed Adonis.
V.
Let not ey'ry vain Spark think that he can engage
The Heart of a Female, like one on the Stage;
His Face, and his Voice, and his Dancing, are
And wherever they meet they prevail with the
But no Quality Top,
(Fair:
Charms like Mr. Hop,
Adorn'd on the Stage, and in Eaſt-India Shop;
So that each from Miſs Felton, to ancient Drake
(Jone is
Bemoaning the Death of the Player Adonis.
VI.
Yet Adonis in fpight of this new Abjuration,
Did banter the lawful King of this great Nation;
Who calld God's Anointed a fooliſh old Prig,
Was both a baſe and unmannerly Wbig ;
But ſince he is dead,
No more ſhall be ſaid,
For he in Repentance has laid down his Head;
So I wiſh each Lady, who in mournful Tone is,
In Charity grieve for the Death of Adonis.
ON
238
Mr. BROWN's Remains.
पर्ट
On the Death of the Duke of Glou-
ceſter, being a Satyr on Dr. Rat.
cliffe, for his Negleš.
a
N vain we grieve, in vain we waſte our Eyes,
And with Expoftulations rend the Skies;
All our Complaints we muſt on Ratcliffe ſpend,
Who, for his Pleaſure, can neglect his Friend:
By whoſe Delays more Patients ſure have dy'd,
Than by the Drugs of others, miſapply'd.
Three Bottles keep him, and for their dear Sake,
Three Kingdoms unregarded lie at Stake.
A faucy Humour, thus to over-rate
His Pleaſure and his Eaſe, to come too late
To ſuch a Prince, the Hopes of ſuch a State,
Alas!
To throw away ſome common Life's a Crime,
That one can ne'er atone for all his Time;
But to neglect a Life of ſuch a Price,
Swells the Offence to a much larger Size ;
The Guilt muſt, as our Lofs, in Meaſure riſe.
In him we all had liv'd ; his fingle Fate
Therefore muſt needs affect the publick State.
So choice a Member from the Body torn,
Leaves the reſt bleeding; for, to ſay we mourn,
Do's
а
On the Vittory at Hochftet. 239
Do's not enough expreſs our ſolemn Grief,
Such as can ſcarce admit, or find Relief.
Who can forgive? And yet forgive we muſt,
For he's the only Man that we can truſt;
Bewitch'd
with Apprehenſions of his Skill,
We thereby give him Pow'r and Leave to kill.
If by his future Care he wou'd retrieve
His Fame, and thereby Satisfaction give,
Let him (and 'tis the leaſt that he can do)
His boafted Immortality beſtow.
$$90000060060000000
On the Duke of MARLBOROUGH's
Vigory at Hochftet, in 1704.
TH.
HE conqu’ring Genius of our Inté returns ;
Inſpir'd by Anne, the Godlike Hero burns ;
Retrieves the Fame our ill-led Troops had loft
And ſpreads reviving Vałour through the Hoft.
In diftant Climes the wond'ring, Foe alarms,
And with new Thunder Auftria's Eagle arms.
The Danube's Banks, forgetting Cefur's Name,
Shall echo to the Sound of Marlb'rough's Fame.
The Shepherds Pipes rejoyçe o’er Gallick Bloody
And with eternal Purple ſtain the Flood.
Upon
240
Mr. BROWN's Remains.
a
Upon the Paper Proje&, for raiſing of
Money.
Play
Ray, Sir, did you hear of a late Proclamation,
Of ſending Paper for Payment quite thro
(the Nation?
Yes Sir, I have, They're your Mountague's Notes,
Tinctur'd and colour'd by yourParliament
Votes:
But 'tis plain on the People to be but a Toaſt;
For they go by the Carrier, and come by the Poft.
వరం00000000000000
The happieſt Day of Marriage.
N Marriage are two Things allow'd,
A Wife in Wedding Sheets, and in a Shroud:
How can a Marry'd State then be a-curſt,
Since the laf Day's as happy as the first?
E PIG R A M.
Exfucco o tremulo fum. fociata viro.
Ille fatigavit tenerum, bic atate valentem
Intačtum tola nocte jacere finet.
Dum nollem licuit, nunc dum volo non licet uti,
O Hymen aut annos, aut mibi redde virum.
Trano
EPIGR Á M S.
265
Tranſlated thus, by Mr. Tho. Brown,
(Oming a tender Girl from School,
Marrying, I met a thund'ring Tool:
But fit for Love's Embraces grown,
I've got a Man that's next to none.
The firſt with Youth's too vig’rous Warmth in.
(ſpir'd,
With Love's untaſted Joys my Weakneſs tir’d.
My ſecond gruntingSpark, cold
to Love's Charms,
He fills my Bed, 'tis true, but not my Arms.
When I'd no Appetite, Love cloy'd me;
Now I've a Mind to't, 'tis denyd me.
Oh! Hymen, Hymen, for my Quiet,
Contract my Stomach, or enlarge my Diet.
అంతలతలతలతలతలత లతలతలతలతలతలలలలలలతతికలత
An Epigram of Flaminius, to his drink-
ing Miſtreſs.
CH
NHloe, you write to me for Coin,
And in Return I ſend you Wine ;
Like Wealth, its Pow'r is equally divine.
E'en ſtick to that, 'twill make you merry,
For mine or other's Abſence chear ye ;
That ſoftens ev'ry Nymph that's cruel,
For mellow Venus is a Jewel.
is
Vol. V.
M
So
266 Mr. Brown's Remuins.
a
73
So Ariadne, when her Wanderer,
Falſe Theſeus, left her, waſh'd off Grief and
(Care,
Enjoy'd God Baccbus, and became a Star.
Besessen
seneres
seseoses esco
On the Earl of Torrington.
"Tain of thy Country, and thy ancient Name,
;
Great Effingham's Reverſe, and Gremvill's Foil,
Thou doft, vile Daftard, all their Triumphs fpoil.
Thy Cowardice difturbs their very Urn,
And is enough to make their Athes mourn.
Ariſe, ye noble Ghoſts of valiant Drake,
Frobijber, Cuv’ndiſh, Mountagu, and Blake ;
You, who our Neighbour-Navies did confound,
And made our Fame from Sea to Sea reſound,
Grieve now to ſee your Trophies from us torn,
The Sea, your Miſtreſs, helpleſs and forlorn
j
Mourn to behold a luftful proud Poltroon,
Eclypſe thoſe Glories you for us have won.
ވެ
.
The Poet's Will, at the Whig's Feſtival.
YA
Onder your Author ſtands extreamly Ili,
And, yet of perfe&tMind, thus makes his Will.
Firſt, I bequeath my Soul, when I forſake is
To him that has the trueſt Right to take it ;
My Body next, let me conlider well,
To thoſe that will convey it out of Smell :
- My
The POET's Will.
267
My worldly Goods, altho they are but few,
My Brother Poets, thoſe I leave to you;
And were I fure that they'd accept of it,
The Rbyming Quality ſhou'd ſhare my Wit:
To Daniel, and his Friend the Observator,
I leave my Manufc-ipts, and Scottiſh Pſalter,
W all my Volumes that have ſcap'd my Bum,
From the Wiſe Mafters to the fam'd Tom Thumb.
Next I bequeatb, (but let me recollect,
I fain wou'd ſomething leave to ev'ry Secl)
To all our grave Divines, where e'er they be,
I leave them, what they want, my Charity;
And to thoſe Prelates that oppoſe the Bill,
Were I ſecure, they wou'd not take it Ill,
To them and their Heirs I'd give and grant
My Model of the Godly Covenant.
The Preslyterians too I'd ſomething give,
Tho' they're ſo rich I know not what to leave,
Beſides, they're grown ſo very proud withal,
They won't accept of any Thing that's ſmall;
And yet, methinks, 'tis fit that they ſhou'd have
Some Marks of my Remembrance in my Grave;
Among my Lumber they will Papers find,
Writ to inform the Realm what they deſign'd;
;
That they have them, it is my fole Intention,
They'll be of Uſe againſt a Comprehenfion.
The Quakers too expect their Legacy,
To thoſe good Men I leave my Modefty;
And let the other Sects, that I mayn't wrong 'em,
Take my Religion and divide among 'em.
And to conclude, it is my Will and Mind,
Some honeſt wealthy Cit would be ſo kind,
To ſee all this perform’d, and for his Pains,
To take for him, and for his Heirs, my Brains.
The
72
M 2
268
SE
Mr. BROWN's Remains.
இழப்பழத்தகம்
sepu
HE
Ro
De
| Na
ITE
HE
Sta
ITE
IN
加加加加加​加加​WHMAHHDHADAM
Ar
TH
TH
The Fable of the Lion and the Beaſts.
O
NE Time a mighty Plague did peſter
All Beaſts Domeſtick and Silveſter.
The Doctors all in Conſult join'd,
To ſee if they the Cauſe could find,
And try'd a world of Remedies,
But none could conquer the Diſeaſe.
The Lyon, in this Confternation,
Sends out his Royal Proclamation,
To all his loving Subjects Greeting,
Appointing them a folemn Meeting.
And when theyr'e gather'd round
his Den,
He ſpoke, My Lords and Gentlemen,
I hope you're met full of the Senfe
Of this devouring Peftilence:
For fure ſuch heavy Puniſhment
On common Crimes is rarely ſent.
It muſt be ſome important Cauſe,
Some great Infraction of the Luws.
Then let us ſearch our Conſciences,
And ev'ry one his Faults confeſs;
Let's judge from biggeſt to the leaſt,
That he that is the fouleft Beaſt,
May for Sacrifice be given,
To ſtop the Wratb of angry Heaven, .
And ſince no one is free from Sin,
I with my ſelf will firſt begin. .
I have done many a Thing that's ill,
From a Propenfity to kill ;
a
TI
А
T
T
V
C
Slain
The Fable of the Lion, &c. 269
Slain many an Ox, and what is worſe,
Have murder'd many a gallant Horſe;
Robb’d Woods and Fens, and like a Glutton,
Devour'd whole Flocks of Lamb and Mutton.
Nay, ſometimes, for I dare not Lye,
5.
6 The Shepberd went for Company.
He had went on, tut Chancellor Fox
Stands up, What ſignifies an Ox?
What ſignifies a Horſe, ſuch Things
Are honour'd when made Sport for Kings?
Then for the Sheep, thoſe fooliſh Cattle,
Not fit for Carriage, or for Battle,
And being tolerable Meat,
They're good for nothing but to eat.
The Shipherd too, your Enemy,
Deſerves no better Deſtiny.
Sir, Sir, your Conſcience is too nice,
Hunting's a Princely Exerciſe;
And theſe being all your Vaffals born,
Juſt when you pleaſe are to be torn.
And, Sir, if this will not content you,
We'll vote it Nemine contradicente.
Thus, after hiin, they all confeſs
They had been Rogues, ſome more, fome leſs ;
And yet, by little ſlight Excuſes,
They all got clear of great Abuſes.
The Bear, the Tyger, Beaſts of Fight,
And all that could but ſcratch and bite;
Nay, e'en the Cat, of wicked Nature,
That kills in Sport her Fellow-Creature,
Went ſcot-free; but his Gravity,
An Afs, of ſtupid Memory,
Confefs'a i'th'Road to Tunbridge-Fair,
His Back half broke with wooden Ware
M3
Chan.
11
240
Mr. BROWN's Remains.
1
Upon the Paper Proje&, for raiſing of
Money.
PRAY
Ray, Sir, did you hear of a late Proclamation,
Of ſending Paper for Payment quite thro
(the Nation?
Yes, Sir, I have, They're your Mountague's Notes,
Tinctur'd and colour'd by your Parliament Votes:
But 'tis plain on the People to be but a Toaſt;
For they go by the Carrier; and come by the Poft.
0000000000000000000
The happieſt Day of Marriage.
N Marriage are two Things allow'd,
A Wife in Wedding Sheets, and in a Shroud:
How can a Marry'd State then be a-curft,
Since the laf Day's as happy as the first?
1
EPI G R A M.
Mpubis nuphi valido, nunc firmior annis
,
Ex fucco o tremulo ſum. fociata viro.
Ille fatigavit tenerum, bic atate valentem
.
Intaćtam tola nocte jacere finet.
Dum nollem licuit, nunc dum volo non licet uti,
O Hymen aut annos, aut mibi redde virum.
Trano
EPIGRAM S.
265
Tranſlated thus, by Mr. Tho. Brown,
:
Oming a tender Girl from School,
But fit for Love's Embraces grown,
I've got a Man that's next to none.
The firſt with Youth's too vig'rous Warmth in-
(fpir'd,
With Love's untaſted Joys my Weakneſs tir’d.
My ſecond gruntingSpark, cold to Love'sCharms,
He fills my Bed, 'tis true, but not my Arms.
When I'd no Appetite, Love cloy'd me;
Now I've a Mind to't, 'tis deny'd me.
Oh ! Hymen, Hymen, for my Quiet,
Contract my Stomach, or enlarge my Diet.
a
蒂蒂​崇崇崇
​e vendeveND NUGUUDUVADOXUNU
An Epigram of Flaminius, to his drink-
ing Miſtreſs.
C
Hloe, you write to me for Coin,
And in Return I ſend you Wine ;
Like Wealth, its Pow'r is equally divine.
E'en ſtick to that, 'twill make you merry,
For mine or other's Abſence chear ye ;
That ſofrens ev'ry Nymph that's cruel,
For mellow Venus is a Jewel.
un
Vol. V.
M
So
266 Mr. Brown's Remins.
So Ariadne, when her Wanderer,
Falſe Theſeus, left her, waſh'd off Grief and
(Care,
Enjoy'd God Bacchus, and became a Star.
ASSASSes
PORAUSSOS series
On the Earl of Torrington.
Tain of thy
Country, and thy ancient Name,
;
>
Great Effing bam's Reverſe, and Greenvill's Foil,
Thou doft, vile Daftard, all their Triumphs fpoil.
Thy Cowardice difturbs their very Urn,
And is enough to make their Afhes mourn.
Ariſe, ye noble Ghoſts of valiant Drake,
Frobiſher, Cuv’ndiſ, Mountague, and Blake;
You, who our Neighbour-Navies did confound,
And made our Fame from Sea to Sea reſound,
Grieve now to ſee your Trophies from us torn,
The Sea, your Miſtreſs, helpleſs and forlorn
Mourn to behold a luſtful proud Poltroon,
Eclypſe thoſe Glories you for us have won.
XPRO
The Poet's Will, at the Whig's Feſtival.
Onder your Author ſtands extreamly Ill,
And, yet of perfe£{Mind, thus makes his Will
.
Firſt, I bequeath my Soul, when I forſake it,
To him that has the trueſt Right to take it
t;
My Body next, lei me contider well,
To thoſe that will convey it out of Smell:
Y And
My
The POET's Will.
267
My worldly Goods, altho' they are but few,
My Brother Poets, thoſe I leave to you;
And were I fure that they'd accept of it,
The Rbyming Quality ſhou'd ſhare my Wit:
To Daniel, and his friend the Obſervator,
I leave my Manufc-ipts, and Scottiſh Pſalter,
With all my Volumes that have ſcap'd my Bum,
From the Wife Maſters to the fam'd Tom Thumb.
Next I bequeath, (but let me recollect,
I fain wou'd ſomething leave to ev'ry Sect)
To all our grave Divines, where e'er they be,
,
I leave them, what they want, my Charity;
And to thoſe Prelates that oppoſe the Bill,
Were I ſecure, they wou'd not take it III,
To them and their Heirs I'd give and grant
My Model of the Godly Covenunta
The Preslyterians too I'd ſomething give,
Tho' they're ſo rich I know not what to leave,
Beſides, they're grown ſo very proud withal,
They won't accept of any Thing that's ſmall;
And yet, methinks, 'tis fit that they ſhou'd have
Some Marks of my Remembrance in my Grave;
Among my Lumber they will Papers find,
Writ to inform the Realm what they deſign'd;
That they have them, it is my ſole Intention,
They'll be of Uſe againſt a Comprehenfion.
The Quakers too expeet their Legacy,
To thoſe good Men I leave my Modefty;
And let the other Seets, that I mayn't wrong 'em,
Take my Religion and divide among 'em.
And to conclude, it is my Will and Mind,
Some honeſt wealthy Cit would be ſo kind,
To ſee all this perform’d, and for his Pains,
To take for him, and for his Heirs, my Brains.
M 2
The
268
Mr. BROWN's Remains.
August
காயப்புயகம்
ad
ec
1
The Fable of the Lion and the Beaſts.
O
a
NE Time a mighty Plague did pefter
Al Beaſts Domeſtick and Silveſter.
The Doctors all in Conſult join'd,
To ſee if they the Cauſe could find,
And try'd a world of Remedies,
But none could conquer the Diſeaſe.
The Lyon, in this Confternation,
Sends out his Royal Proclamation,
To all his loving Subjects Greeting,
Appointing them a folemn Meeting.
And when
theyr'e gather'd round
his Den,
He ſpoke, My Lords and Gentlemen,
I hope you're met full of the Senfe
Of this devouring Peftilence:
For ſure ſuch heavy Puniſoment
On common Crimes is rarely ſent.
It muſt be ſome important Caufe,
Some great Infraction of the Luws.
Then let us ſearch our Conſciences,
And ev'ry one his Faults confeſs;
Let's judge from biggeſt to the leaſt,
That he that is the fouleft Beaſt,
May for Sacrifice be given,
To ſtop the Wrath of angry Heavon. .
And ſince no one is free from Sin,
I with my ſelf will firſt begin.
I have done many a Thing that's ill,
From a Propenfity to kill;
Slain
The Fable of the Lion, &c. 269
Slain many an Ox, and what is worſe,
Have murder'd many a gallant Horſe;
Robb'd Woods and Fens, and like a Glutton,
Devour'd whole Flocks of Lamb and Mutton.
Nay, ſometimes, for I dare not Lye,
. The Shepberd went for Company.
He had went on, tut Chancellor Fox
Stands up, What ſignifies an Ox?
What ſignifies a Horft, ſuch Things
Are honour'd when made Sport for Kings?
Then for the Sheep, thoſe fooliſh Cattle,
Not fit for Carriage, or for Battle,
And being tolerable Meat,
They're good for nothing but to eat.
The Shipherd too, your Enemy,
Deſerves no better Deſtiny.
Sir, Sir, your Conſcience is too nice,
Hunting's a Princely Exerciſe ;
And theſe being all your Vaſfáls born,
,
Juſt when you pleaſe are to be torn.
And, Sir, if this will not content you,
We'll vote it Nemine contradicente.
Thus, after him, they all confeſs
They had been Rogues, ſome more, ſome leſs;
And yet, by little flight Excuſes,
They all got clear of great Abuſe's.
The Bear, the Tyger, Beaſts of Fight,
And all that could but ſcratch and bite;
Nay, e'en the Cat, of wicked Nature,
That kills in Sport her Fellow-Creature,
Went ſcot-free; but his Gravity,
An Afs, of ſtupid Memory,
Confeſs'a i'th'Road to Tunbridge-Fair,
His Back half broke with wooden Ware,
M3
Chan
270
Mr. BROWN's Remains.
Chancing unluckily to pafs
By a Church-yard full of good Graſs,
Finding they'd open left; the Gate,
He ventur'd in, ftoop'd down, and eat.
Hold, ſays Judge Wolf, theſe are the Crimes
Have brought upon us theſe fad Times;
By ſeveral Acts of Parliament
Tis Sacrilege, and this vile Afs
Deſerves to dye for eating holy Grafs.
The Fable fhews us poor Mens Fatr,
Whilf Laws can never reach the Great.
OUCONDIDAU 00
10 Oruco. OO COCO
An Elegy on the Death of Mr. Edward
Millington, the famous Auctioneer.
M
Ourn, mourn, you Bookſellers, for cru-
(el Death
Has robb'd the famous Auctioneer of Breath :
He's gone, he's gone! ah! the great Loſs deplore,
Great Millington, alas! he is 110 more:
No more will he now at your Service ſtand
Behind the Defk, with Mallet in his Hand.
No more the value of your Books ſet forth,
And fell 'em by his'Art for twice their Worth,
Methinks I ſee him ftill with ſmiling Look
Amidſt the Crowd, and in his Hand a Book,
Then in a fine facetious pleaſing Way,
The Author's Genius and his Wit diſplay.
O
On Millington the Auctioneer. 271
O all ye ſcribbling Tribe,come mourn his Death,
Whoſe Wit hath giv'm your dying Fame new
(Birth:
When your neglected Works did mouldring lie
Upon the Shelves, and none your Books would
(buy,
How oft has he, with ſtrained Eloquence,
Affirm'd the Leaves contain'd a world of Senſe,
When all's infipid dull Impertinence.
Çome, Gentlemen, come, bid me what you
(plçale;
Upon my Word, it is a curious Piece,
Done by a learned Hand, and neatly bound:
What ſay you, come, I'll put it up one Pound:
,
One Pound, once, twice? Fifteen: Who bids
(a Crown;
Then fhakes his Head with an affected Frown
li
Good-lack-a-day, 'tis ftrange; then ſtrikes a
(Blow,
And in 2 feigned Paſſion bids it go :
Then in his Hand another Piece he takes,
And in its Praiſe a long Harangue he makes;
And tells 'em that 'tis writ in lofty Verſe,
One that is out of Print, and very ſcarce ;
Then with high Language, and a ſtately Look,
He ſets a lofty Price upon the Book:
Five Pound, four Pound, three Pound, he cries
(aloud,
And holds it up, and ſhews it to the Crowd,
With Arm erect, the Bidders to provoke,
To raiſe the Price before th’impending Stroke:
This in the Throng does Emulation breed,
And makes 'em ſtrive each other to out-bid,
While
1
M4
272
Mr. BR'OWN's Remains.
1
While he deſcants upon their learned Heats,
And his facetious Dialect repeats:
For none like him for certain knew ſo well,
By way of Auction any Goods to ſell.
*Tis endleſs to expreſs the Ways he had
To ſell the Good, and to put off the Bad.
But, ah! in vain I ſtrive his Fame to ſpread;
-The great, the wiſe, the knowing Man is dead.
And you in Painting ſkill’d, his Lofs bewail,
He's dead that did expoſe your Works to Sale,
See how he lies, all diſmal, wan, and pale :
No more hy him your Praiſe will be expreſs’d,
For, ah! he's gone to his eternal Reft:
Can you forget how he for you did bawl,
Come, put it in, a fine Original,
Done by a curious Hand: what Strokes are here
Drawn to the Life, how fine it does appear!
O lovely Piece, Ten Pound, Five Pound, for
(Shame;
You do not bid the Value of the Frame!
How many pretty Stories would he tell,
To inhaunce the Price, and make the Picture
(ſell.
But now he's gone, ah! the fad Loſs deplore!
Great Millington, alas! he is no more.
And you, the Muſes Darling, to rehearſe
Your Sorrow for the Loſs of him in Verſe,
Mourn, mourn together; for that Tyrant, Death,
Has robb'd the famous Auctioneer of Breath.
His EPITAPH.
Underneath this Marble Stone
Lies the famous Millington:
A
IS.
2
ell
do
ead;
5 dez
all)
ple
,
e:
here
-!
fe
7m2
1
2
10
e!
WIL
ICH
Volv,
the Devil &Farmer,
P.275,
A Match for the Devil.
273
A Man who through the World did ſteer,
ItbAation of an Auctioneer ;
A Man with wond'rous Senfé and Wiſdom bleff
whoſe Qualitirs are not to be expreft.
SABORES
A Match for the Devil. In Imitation
of M Rabelais.
W
Hile others idle Tales relate,
To fright Men from the marry'd State,
Do thou, my Muſe, in humble Verſe,
The Virtues of a Wife rehearſe.
A Farmer, of much Wealth poſſeſs’d,
With Friends too, while they lafted, bleſs’d,
Kept open Houſe, and lov'd to feaſt
Thoſe who deferv'd and wanted leaft.
To Pleaſures he preſcrib's no Bounds S;
He kept his Hunters, Pack of Hounds.
Somewhat laſcivious, ſomewhat vain,
Some Gentleman had croſs'd the Strain,
To try all Joys and Plagues of Life,
He boldly took a buxom Wife.
Now frelh Expences, freſh Delights,
Attend the Day, and crown the Nights.
His new Acquaintance crowd the Houſe ;
Some praiſe the Fare, but moſt the Spouſe.
Each ſirove who ſhould divert the mofte
But ſtill 'twas at the Huſband's Coft.
He, thoughtleſs, prais'd th' expenſive Pleafure,
To pleaſe his dear domeſtick Treaſure.
MS
АЙ
274
Mr. BROWN's Remains.
All Care was ſcorn'd, and Bus’neſs vanilh'dt;
The preſent Joys Thoughts future banilh'd :
And being both of Years but vernal,
They thought their Wealth and Loves eternal.
But, oh! how vain are all Mens Fancies !
Ill-grounded Projects, mere Romances !
What Whims the Wifeſt entertain !
What ſtrange Deluſions fill our Brain!
When we are eager to poffefs,
We ſmooth the Road to Happineſs;
We level Mountains, empty Seas,
And Reaſon fierce Deſires obeys.
The greateſt Danger we deſpiſe;
Our Paſſion fees, and not our Eyes.
Our Pair now find, fome Seaſons paft,
Nor Wealth, nor Love, would always laft,
Unleſs improv'd with Application ;
But that in one is out of Faſhion.
Gold indeed preſerves its Sway,
But, Love! Who does thy Pow'r obey ?
E'en Women now profeſs to range,
And all their Pleaſure is in Change ;
Now ſeek the preſent Joys t' improve,
Yielding to many they call Love;
Artful new Lovers to engage,
Then flight his Love, and ſcorn his Rage.
Thus theſe behold what they poſſeſs’d,
And wonder how they once were bleſs'd.
Their Jars are thought on, and improv'd;
They hate themſelves, that once they lov'd.
Thus lab'ring on in dirty Road,
They ſnarl, and curſe the heayy Load.
How happy were our mortalState,
Were Indolence but our worlt Fått!
No
A Match for the Devil. 275
1
No ſooner Joys the Place forſake,
But racking Pains Dominion take.
No ſooner Love had fled the Pair,
When enter'd meager Want and Care.
The Houſe, which had ſuch vaſt Reſort,
Where Riot ſeem'd to keep his Court,
Is now forfook, a lonely Cell,
Where Silence, undiſturbid, might dwell.
Clean Pans and Spits the Walls now gracd,
For Ornament the Pewter's plac'd.
Bright Diſhes entertain the Eye,
No Kitchen-Smoke offends the Sky.
Hogſheads with diſmal Sounds complain'd:
Both Hogſheads and the Man were drain d.
His Landlord ſtern his Rent demands;
Stray'd are his Flocks, unplough'd his Lands.
The Wife adviſes Friends to try;
Her's ſhe was ſure would not deny.
A thouſand Vows ſhe had receiv'd
Each Vow repay'd, for the believ'd.
But, oh! how loon did they diſcover
'Tis Wealth brings Friends, the Face a Lover?
His Wants are heard without Relief;
Her Eyes afford nột Joy, nor Grief,
His waſted Fortụne all affrights ;
Her faded Beauty none invites.
Oppreſs’d with Wants, to Woods he flies,
And ſeeks the Peacę his Houſe denies.
Roving, lamenting his Condition,
Fate kindly ſent him a Phyſician.
His Habit, Cane, and formal Face,
Shew'd he was of Geneva Race :
But cloven Feet the Fiend detect,
And prov'd him Author of the Seet.
. ز
}
2
With
276 Mr. BROWN's Remain's.
a
With Joy he ſpy'd the Wretch's Cares,
And fawning, thus he ſpread his Snares.
My Son! With Pity I have ſeen
(Tho' I've a Foe to Pity been)
The fad Diſaſters you endure,
That of a Wife admits no Cure.
I know your Wants, and her’s I gueſs ;
I cannot ſwear I'll both redreſs.
That Talk, I fear, is too uneaſy ;
But if Poffeffions large will pleaſe ye,
Behold this ſpacious Tract of Land,
All that you ſee's at my Command.
I'll give it freely all to thee,
If we on Articles agree.
I can perform it, I'm the Devil,-
Nay, never ſtart Man, I'll be civil.
It ſhall be yours to plough and low;
All that above the Ground does grow,
Whate'er it is, fhall be my Due ;-
The reft I freely give to you.
Gladly the Farmer does ſubmit,
For pinching Want had taught him Wit.
With Roots he plants the fruitful Soil,
Which well rewarded all his Toil.
But to his Landlord's Jilted Share
A weedy Harveft does appear.
The Devil vext, new Cov'nants makes,
Next Year all under Ground he takes. .
Then golden Wheat the Land does bear,
And uſeleſs Roots are Satan's Share.
The Fiend reſolv?d to ſpoil the Jeft,
And thus the Farmer he addrest.
Believe me, Friend, thou art a Sharper ;
Satan himſelf has caught a Tartar,
I've
A Match for the Devil.
277
a
a
I've ſeen thy Wit, but now at length
I am reſolv'd to try thy Strength.
A ſcratching Match we'll have together;
Look to thy ſelf, I'll claw thy Leather.
If I ſubmit, the Land is thine;
If I o'ercome, thy Soul is mine.
Think for your Quiet, I conjure ye;
Shou'd you to Hell, you leave a Fury.
Obſerve theſe Talons, and away,
And Friday next ſhall be the Day.
A mod'rate Beauty will inflame,
Till we have ſeen a brighter Dame.
Rivers with Wonders we ſurvey,
'Till we behold the boundleſs Sea.
So ev'ry little trifling Care
Appears a Load we cannot bear.
But if ſome horrid Tortures ſeize us,
What late we dreaded, now wou'd eafe us.
The wretched Farmer homeward goes,
And dreads his future endleſs Woes.
His Cares, his Dunns, his Wants, his Wife,
And all the Banes of happy Life,
Wou'd now afford him vaft Content,
Cou'd he the unequal Match prevent.
His prying Turtle quickly gueft
Some Care uncommon fill'd his Breaft.
Huſband and Wife ſometimes relate
Their Cares and Bus’neſs, tho' they hate.
Nor always Nature's Call deny,
And tho? both loath, yet both comply.
Her wheedling Tongue foon found the Means
To make the Wretch diſcloſe his Pains.
He tells the Combat and the Laws,
And magnifies his monft'rous Paws.
Pith!
278
Mr. BROWN's Remains.
Pifh! Is this all that Plagues your Mind ?
An eaſy Remedy I'll find.
You to your Wife's Advice fubmit,
And we'll the Devil himſelf out-wit,
Come, turn about, and leave your Moans
Theſe Huſbands are ſuch very Drones.
He ſigh'd, obey'd, and did his beſt;
His Taſk perform'd, he went to reſt.
Our happy Hours are quickly paſt,
And Time to Miſery makes haſte.
Soon Friday comes, a diſmal Day !
When ſuch a Gueſt wou'd Viſit pay.
The Farmer dreads the approaching Scuffle ;
(The Thoughts of Hell the Boldeſt ruffle)
But ſtill his Wife keeps up her Spirits ;
She knew her Safe-guard, and its Merits :
She bids him hide, whate're ſhou'd fall on't,
While ſhe receiv'd the dreadful Gallant,
He ſoon obeys th’advent'rous Dame;
The Huſband gone, the Devil came.
Who knocks impetuous at the Gate,
And angry grows, that he fhould wait.
Again for Entrance loud he cries,
But Screams and Grgans are the Replies.
Love and the Devil, what can bind!
They ſtronger grow, the more confind:
If they can ſpy the ſmalleft Hole,
One takes the Heart, and one the Soul.
So Satan, vex'd at the Delay,
Whip'd thro' the Key-hole to his Prey;
But, to his great Amazement, found
Th’indecent Wife fpread on the Ground :
High as the Walte expos'd and bare,
And with her Shreiks the pierc'd the Air.
Why,
A Match for the Devil. 279
Why, how now,Woman? Whence this Paffion?
This Pofture, and ſuch Exclamation ?
Ah ! Pity, Sir, my wretched Cafe,
And quickly fly this horrid Place.
You, by your grim, majeſtick Air,
Your Feet, your Claws, your Horns declare,
You with my Husband come to ſcratch ;
But thou, ah! thou, th’unequal Match!
The cruel Monſter ready ſtands,
But hope not to eſcape his Hands :
His Nails are Scythes upon my Life,
And for his Horns, Sir, I'm his Wife.
This Morn, to try what he cou'd do,
On me he wou'd his Prowefs Ihew :
This Chaſm he made with's little Finger,
Behold, Sir, is it not a ſwinger:
With that, the threw her Legs aſide,
And Thew'd a Hole furprizing wide.
Zounds, quoth the Devil (quite amaz'd,
When on the deadly Gulph he gaz'd)
What do I fee! What makes that Wound
Of ſuch Extent, and ſo profound !
If that Nail fuch a Wound cou'd tear,
What can the Force of ten Claws bear!
And by the Stench, to fhew his Spite,
With poyfon'd Weapons he would fight.
My Talons are not half fo long,
Nor is my Sulphur half fo ſtrong.
No, I'll fubmit, ſince my Lot's Hell;
At leaſt I'll in a whole Skin dwell.
The Land is his, but be he bound,
Since he has made to fill that Wound.
With that he vanith'd from her Eyes,
And ſulph'rous Srench and Fames ariſe.
The
à
7
280 An Eſay upon WOMEN.
.
The Farmer haftens to the Place,
His great Deliv’rer to embrace.
Well haft thou free'd my tim'rous Soul;
But what did e'er thy Pow'r controul ?
The fierceſt Rage it ſoon diſarms,
Tho' Hell it frights, yet Men it charms...
But be it on thy Tomb engravid,
Tis the firſt Soul a Wife e'er fav'd.
goooooooooooook
An Eſ ay upon Women. A Fragment.
OU aſk me to give you the true
Picture of a Woman: I muft tell
Y
you, according to my Opinion, it is
a true Compendium of Pride, Vani-
ty, Luxury, Idleneſs, Spleen, Folly,
Malice, and Envy ; a Bait made on Purpofe to
put us Men, (who glory in our Knowledge of
the moſt abftrufe Myſteries, in our great mili-
tary Atchievements, and in our governing the
World, in mind of our Frailty,) in ſuffering
our ſelves to be enſnar'd in that Net, which
being baited with that Bait, is the Bane of all
ourBliſs,and renders Our Lives miſerable for ever.
If this Compoſition happen to have ſome ſmall
Ingredient of Simplicity, or (as ſome, will call
it) of good Nature; that is to ſay, if out of
Fear, the is either over-ruld by a Huſband to
keep in a tolerable Decorum, ſo as not to tire
the poor Infant out of his Life, by her Obftre-
peroul,
An El ay upon Women. 281
perouſneſs, and continual Clamours; though,
at the fame Time, her Weakneſs, or Good-na.
fure, (if you pleaſe) will not permit her to re-
jeet the kind offers and Arts of an infinuating
Gallant, or a cunning old Lady, who bubbles
her at the Expence of her Husband ; ſhe thinks
ſhe may juftly challenge the Title of a good, or at
leaſt, of a good-naturii Woman ; and Woe be to
the poor Wretch that is yoak’d to her, if he
dares ſay one Word againâ it ; and though he
be not to complaiſant to his Wife's Good-na-
ture, to think
her a good Woman, yet Woe, I
ſay, to him, if he dares to ſay ſo, he is ſure
to have the general Vore, with a nemine con-
tradicente, of all the good Women againſt him ;
and of theſe, you know, there are not a ſmall
Number. If theſe be the good Women, what
do you think of the bad Ones ? I will not, at
this Time, enlarge my ſelf upon the whole
Body of the Sex. I am very willing to paſs by
in Silence thoſe of the meaneſt Rank; as their
Behaviour, for the moſt part, is inſupportable,
and often more like Brutes than rational Crea-
tures, ſo they have that to ſay in their Behalf,
that they tread the Steps of their Parents,
meerly by Inſtinct, and without Diſguiſe. It
being my Intention to confine the Compaſs of
this Eſſay to ſome of thoſe chiefly of a ſuperior
Rank, who by their Extraction, Affluence of
Fortune, a liberal, generous, and apparentEduca-
tion, (for ſuch too often it is) and genteel Con-
verſation, may ſeem to challenge much greater
Prerogatives than thoſe of the common People.
And now, I would aſk any young Country
Squire
282 An Eſ ay upon WOMEN.
Squire of them all, lately brought to live by
my Lady his Mother, on his Aunt ; or any
young Scholar of the Univerſities, come up to
London along with his Couſin, to view the Cu-
rioſities of that City; I ſay, I would aſk either
of them, when they came firſt into the Play-
houſe, (perhaps to ſee ſome new Play, or mag-
nificent Opera) and found the Baxes lin'd with
ſo great Numbers of fair, magnificently attir'd,
and fumptuouſly attended Ladies, whether they
did not loſe their Senſes at the firſt ſight of
them, and during this Rapture, they were them-
ſelves tranſported into terreſtrial Paradiſe ;
where, inſtead of Womeit, find they were to
enjoy the ſecret Converſations of Angels. Truly,
young Gentlemen, I can't much blame you; good
Men of many Years and Inheritance have been
as much miſtaken as your ſelf, nay, rather
more, when, inſtead of Paradiſe, they have
got into Lob's Pound, the only Purgatory to
purge off in this world, which purifies them
ſo nicely, that there are many of them have
nothing but Skin and Bones left them. : Pray
look a little about you, for here you will find
them of all sorts and Sizes, from the Lord to
the Country-fellow, from the long Robe to
the Caffock, from the Sword to the Pen-man,
all inveigled into the Sin; and you are likely
to fall into it without Shame, in bringing the
Words of Æſop's Fox, Omnia me veſtigia tera
rent. I ſee you are big to tell me that I only
banter, and that 'tis impoſſible Ladies with
firch Angel-like Graces, and Shapes, with fo
engaging a Deportment, and fo admirable an
1
Air,
An Eſay upon WOMEN.
283
Air, fhould be nothing but Darkneſs within.
Have you forgot how Lucian compares them
to the Egyptian Temples, which are moſt mag-
nificent Structures without, but their Deities
within, nothing but an Ape, a Dog, or ſome
other ugly deform'd Creature? Had Lucian
liv'd ſince the Diſcovery of the Chineſe Temples
to the Europeans, he would have had Recourſe,
in his Compariſon; to them, inſtead of thoſe
of the Egytians: For, as the Chineſe Temples
far exceed the others, as well in the Preciouſ-
- nefs of the Materials, as in the Beauty of
Workmanſhip; ſo the inoſt monſtrous Shapes
of their Gods, containd within, ſeem to have
nearer Relation to the modern Extravagancies
of the Sex. Some have compard them to the
tranſparent Glaffes in the Apot becaries or Chy-
mifts Shops, which ſeem gilt
without, but contain
bitter Draughts and deadly Remedies, unleſs
us'd with the utmoſt Precaution. Should I but
rehearſe here half the Titles and Epithers Sola-
man beſtows upon Women, what do you think
would become of our Eſay? It would certainly
ſwell into a good large Piece ; and who can
deny, but that he was the beft Judge that ever
was of the Sex? His Judgment being founded
not only upon his Wiſdom, but alſo upon his
own experimental Philoſophy and Practice. But
that it may not be objecteit, as if Things were
much alter'd fince Solomon's Time, in reſpect
as well of the female Sex, as in many other
Matters, let us caft an Eye upon the Education,
Practices, and Deportment of thoſe that fet
up for the Female Beaux of this Age. To trace
.
their
10
1
1
284 An Eſ ay upon WOMEN.
their Education from its head Spring, 'you too
often ſee a young Miſs in her very tender Years,
put to the Management of ſome old Lady or
other, who having formerly been my Lady's
Woman, (and perhaps my Lord's too) is an-
nex’d, like an Appennage to a Benefice; ſo
that having liv'd in holy Converſation with
the Curate, ſhe is, after her Husband's Death,
now thought fully qualify'd for the Education
of Miſs. This cunning Hag, knowing it is the
ſafeft Way to riſe now, inſtead of giving to her
young Pupil ſuch Leſſons as may lead her to
Humility, Modeſty, and an eaſy and complaiſant
Temper, is ſure, in order to Hatter her young
Miſtreſs's Fancy, and engage her entirely into
her Intereſt, to infuſe into her quite contrary
Principles. She will not fail to tell her, twenty
Times a Day, of the Charms.of her Eyes, the
Delicacy of her Complexion, the Nicety of her
Shape, C. and, in Concluſion, the never fails
to put her in Mind that all theſe were Gifts of
Nature, intended to allure Men, and to keep
them in Slavery; with many more ſuch like edi.
fying Inſtructions, ſhe is beſt able to give, be-
cauſe ſhe has praétis'd them before her felf. If
her young Miſtreſs be of Quality, ſhe tells her,
'tis Haughtineſs muſt be the chief Aim of her
Deportment; if ſhe's Rich, ſhe makes her Belly
her God; ſhe tells her, ſhe ought to eat no-..
thing the Seaſon affords, be it never ſo dearly
bought ; and the better to gratify both her own
and her young Miſtreſs's Appetite, (for ſhe will
certainly come in for her full Share) ſhe will
take a great deal of Pains to perſwade her, that
finc
An Ejay upon WOMEN. 285
fine Meats and delicious Sauces ferve to invi-
gorate her Spirits, render her more plump and
comely, and conſequently encreaſe her Charms
to the undoing of Mankind. Miſs, thus initiat-
ed in the Principles of Vanity, Pride, and Lux-
ury, ſtands now in want of one who may, like
a true Aſſiſtant to her Tutoreſs, teach her how
to put in Practice ſome Part at leaſt of her In-
ſtructions. And who do you think ſhould this
good Man be? I'll warrant you, you will ſay,
it muſt be ſome Man of Wiſdom and Experience
in the fine Art of accompliſhing Ladies, as may
ſeem to appear to you? But, alas ! how far do
you ſhoot from the Mark? Be not ſurpriz'd if
I tell you, 'tis a certain Whipper-Snapper call'a
a Dancing-maſter, with a blue Coat, ſcarlet
Stockings, and a lac'd Hat; he being of Mrs.
Tutoreſs's Acquaintance, in having purchas'd
her Favours by the Help of ſome Pieces of Gold,
or perhaps by doing her another good Turn, is,
by her Commendation, conſtituted chief Man-
ager of Miſs's good Carriages and Manners. This
Fellow, when he is introduc'd to the Parents,
will tell them Wonders in Praiſe of Dancing ;
how Socrates learn'd to dance in his old.
age, how the grave Lacedemonians us'd it in
their publick Feafts, and how even the Sali-
an Prieſts at Rome danc'd in Honour of Mars
but he is ſure not to mention one Word, how
Saluft upbraided Sempronia with dancing too
nicely, and how Cato objected the ſame to Hx-
drenas. He takes Care not to put them in Mind
of Petrarch's ſaying, “ That at Balls many a
grave Matron has loſt her Honour, many a
Virgin
;
286
An Eſ ay upon WOMEN.
« Virgin has learn'd what ſhe never knew ;
*** but never any one return'd more vertuous
« than ſhe went. This Leſſon, tho' verify'd
by daily Experience, being not for his Purpoſe,
he is careful to avoid; but inſtead thereof, ex-
tols his Art, as capable of charming the Mind,
and making a young handſome Lady ſo accom-
pliſh'd, as to render her Power irrefiftible to
thoſe that behold her. · Mifs is fure to be told,
as often as he teaches her, of her fine Legs and
Feet, her round and well-turn'd Body, grace-
ful Mein and Carriage, which if well improv'd,
will by degrees make her the Admiration of all
the World. To tickle Miſs's Fancy, and the
Beholders, he will, under Pretence that good
Company is a great Addition towards the Im-
provement of an Art, in which in a great
Meaſure the muſt fix the Hopes of her greateſt
Preferments, introduce ſome lewd and de-
bauch'd Diſciples of his to dance with Miſs ;
who, upon this Occafion, are not ſparing to
let looſe their Tongues, and to infufe into the
young Scholar, by their Diſcourſe, "fuch Mo-
tions as perhaps the never thought of before.
Not to mention the Enormities and Extrava.
gancies committed at the Balls, in the moſt
publick Dancing-Schools; where, by the antick
Geſtures, antick Tunes, and obſcene Airs,
fhameleſs Hands, and ſometimes alſo by immode
eft Kiffes, Youth is initiated to the very Practice
of Wantonneſs. But to return to our Dome-
Nick Education, whilſt the Dancing-Mafter la-
bours hard to make his young Female Scholar
a perfect Pattern and Maſter-piece of his Art,
and
An Eſay on WOMEN. 287
and fhe, poor willing Tit, very diligent in fol.
lowing his Steps, and practiſing fometimes all
Night long : To ſecond her Maſter's Endea.
vours, her Tutoreſs, in order to improve the
natural Faculties of her Mind, as well as the
Dancing-Mafter does the Ativity of her Body,
takes care to furnith her young Miſtreſs (who
new begins to come to Years of Maturity)
with rare Hiſtories of Luft, of Fornications,
and Adulteries; with ſurprizing Romances,
engaging Novels, enticing Comedies, and
wanton Songs ; nay, fometimes, with 'Ovid's
Art of Love, and perhaps with fome of a
worſe Stamp. But for fear 'the young Lady
fhould not be ſo apt a Scholar as to apprehend
ſo ſoon the Myfteries of all theſe voluminous
Pieces, Madam Tutorefs, not to be deficient in
her Duty, and at the ſame Time to thew her
Experience in amorous Affairs, will not be
wanting to illuſtrate the difficult Paſſages with
her own Annotations and Obſervations, and
render every Thing ſo obvious to her, that ſhe
muſt be one of a very dull Apprehenſion, if
ſhe is not fully convinc'd of the Thing. Ra-
ther than fail, the old Gentlewoman will bring
in fome Love Intriegues of her own ; ſhe will
tell her how many Lovers, or Sweet-hearts (the
better to palliate the Matter) The had, what
Preſents they made her ; nay, how they
courted and lov'd her ; that unleſs the young
Lady be naturally of a very inſipid and phleg-
inatick Diſpoſition, ſhe ſets her a longing for
the ſame Thing, and wilhes ſhe might have
been in her Sread at that Time. Judge now
what
1
288 An Eſ ay upon WOWEN.
what ſort of Improvements ſuch fine Proceed.
ings can produce, fince they ſerve only to ſea-
fon the moſt Innocent with Pride, Vanity, Lux-
ury, Voluptuouſneſs, a light Carriage, Info-
lence, Craft, Impudence, and Arrogance ; not
to ſay worſe. I ſee by your very Countenance,
you are impatient to object againſt me, That
theſe modeſt Looks, ſmiling Faces, and ſweet
Deportments, are in themſelves ſufficient to
contradi&t thoſe Slanders and Characters I im.
poſe upon 'em, perhaps, to divert, or revenge
my ſelf, at the Expence of the Fair Sex: But
have a little Patience, you will perhaps be in
a better Mood, young Man, when I ſhall make
it out to you, as I intend to do, That they be-
ſtow at length as much Time and Pains in the
Art of Diſſimulation, as they do in ſetting out
their Faces.
The
289
ERKTE
23
Hoa
3
10
The Charms of the BOTTLE, a Friend
to Love; in Anſwer to a Female
Friend's Letter.
AMY
T is no ſmall Charm to me, my dear
11
Melanilla, to find by Yours, that I
have ſtill ſo great a Share in your
Heart. The Concern you expreſs
needs no Excuſe, ſince it is an Argument of
your Fondneſs; which muſt make a Heart, fen-
fible as mine, eaſily forgive a Warmth that is
only the Effect of a Love, of which Alexis muſt
ever be proud. But give me Leave, my dear
Melanila, while I pay all the Deference in the
World to your Beauty, to diffent from your
Opinion.
You ſeeni jealous of my Inclinations to the
Bottle; in which you proceed upon a great
Miſtake,. quarrelling with your Friend as an
Enemy.
4
For Wine to Love, and a Friend confefs’d.
And Love, without the Vintner Bacchus, and
the Cook Ceres, would frieze up and die. They
VOL. V.
N
furniſh
290 The Charms of the BOTTLE.
a
ſet up
a
furniſh frcfh Spirits and new Defires, and make
every Night like the firſt. The Nymph gathers
freſh Charms from our Cups; which, like Te-
leſcopes, diſcover fecret Beauties one cannot ſee
without them. You erroneouſly therefore con-
fine the Bottle to Old Age, and by preſcribing
a perpetual, a continued Courſe of Beauty
without Interruption, promote an Inconftancy
you would not approve. Enjoyment is a luf-
cious food, which foon clogs the Appetite, if
we feed too grofly upon it; whilft Intervals,
and their Pleaſures, keep it up, and give an
Edge to Deſire.
Your Letter, indeed, is a Proof of what you
fay, That you knew little of the World, whes
you
Paradox that can never be made
Out ; nay, I am afraid, Neaniffa, that you
knew as little of Nature, when you imagine,
that a Man can always be impriſond in white
Arms. To retire to my Study now and then,
is no Confinement but pleaſure ; but to be al-
ways lock'd up with a Book, will make the
moſt ſtudious Man dull and empty. The Li-
berty we take Abroad, and the noiſy Delights
of Converſation, make a Retirement the more
agreeable. If you would have us vigorous and
fond when we are with you, you ſhould indulge
our Abſence ſometimes to vary the Scene. He
that is always at the Table, makes but a ſcurvy
Meal; where we never ought to come, but with
a good keen Appetite, then fall to with a Sto-
mach, and our Victuals does us Good.
Your Draught of the Tavern, is partial and
imperfect; you draw a Likeneſs, indeed, but 'tis
a ſcura
a
a
The Charms of the BOTTLE. 291
a fcurvy one ; nay, ſuch a one, that you would
never forgive in Delial and Sir Godfrry. But
this comes from a Mif-information ; you have
it by Hearſay; and becauſe Scoundrels and
Rakes abuſe the Creature, you allow no good
Ure of it.
From the Play, indeed, we pafs to the Roſe ;
and having glutted our Eyes with the Ladies,
and our Ears with the Poet, we unbend over a
Bottle, and prepare for the Embraces of Me
laniſſa. Each Glaſs we drink we crown with
her Health, and every Glaſs is indeed a freſh
Miſtreſs ; it ſparkles like her Eyes, and is rud.
dy like her Lips ; fmels like her Breath, and
gives Joys. like her Arms; whilft Wit' and
Good-humour make the Night rival the Day,
and Bacchus gives more cliearful Warmth than
the Sun. Formality and Diſguiſe is laid aſide,
and the fecond Bottle leaves no cautious Re-
ferve, reſtoring the Golden Age ; while Deſign
and mean Cunning are left to the grave Con-
ſults of the Aged. Here the fprightly Repartees
Ay about with the Glaſs, and Horace and Ana.
crron ariſe from their Graves, to exalt the Con-
verſation. Soft Ovid and Tibullus, and learn'd
Catullus, by Turns make their Entry to heigh-
ten our Pleaſure : Corinna and Lifhia are
compar'd to Melanila, and we judge of the
Joys of theſe Poets by thoſe that we now
find in your Arms. Thus Wit and Wine
aſpire and bleſs our Hours, 'till we part with
full Satisfaction in the innocent and manly
Divertion.
TI
11
B
N2
But
292 The Charms of the BOTTLE.
But now let us view the Biggot of Venus; I
fee how ſhort are his Joys to ours. The ſober
Sot flies from the Play, Celia's his Apartment
for Kiſſes and Raptures, which are always the
ſame. He ſteals in-a-Doors, gets into her
Chamber; the Viſit's betray'd, and in the
midft of his Tranſports, is fair to leap from
the Balcony in his Shirt ; happy if he eſcape
both the Keeper and the Watch, at Expence of
his Purſe and Reputation.
But fuppofe him more fortunate, and no ill
Adventure interrupt his Amour, the Parents
ſleep foundly, the Confident is faithful, the
Keeper or Husband from Home; yet Celia is
falſe, claps her favour'd Gallant into her Cloſet.
on your Approach, and ſuffers your Embrace,
while the other has all her Careffes. In a
Morning or two, the Bubble finds himſelf
warmer than he deſir'd, and Pills and Bolus's
muſt repair the Breaches of his Tabernacle :
Doctors, Surgeons, and Apothecaries-Bills, come
inſtead of Billet-deux, and Aches and Pains for
Raptures and Tranſports ; and ſo for one
Night's Enjoyment, does Penance a Month;
Whereas the Debauch of the Bottle, is heal'd
the next Morning; and the Liquor that gave
the Night Wound, gives an agreeable Cure.
But ſuppoſe him more happy and free from
this Puniſhment, Jealouſies and Fears, Quar-
rels and Tears, foon enter the Liſts of Amours.
Celia is cold, he ſwears ſhe's inconftant ; ſhe's
impatient of the Accufation; he is more con-
firm'd; the ſcolds; he rants, ſhe cries, he ſub-
mits, or perhaps Aies away in Indignation,
purſues
The Charms of the BOTTLE. 293
1
purſues a new Game, has the ſame Fate, and
fo ſpends his Life in a foolith Round of ſhort
Pleaſures and long Pains : While the Bottle
renews its Enchantments every Night, and
never ſoures, but ſweetens your Humour ; is
obedient to your Will, enjoy'd when you
pleaſe, and thrown aſide when your Appetite's
ſatisfy'd. If one don't pleaſe you, the Drawer
obediently pimps for your Pleaſure with ano-
ther.
Thus you fee, Melanijſá, that the Bottle is
on as good a Foot as the Joy you perſwade,
and merits not the Contempt you wou'd have
us beſtow on its Charms. But I ll join ſo far
with you, I'll allow you your Pleaſure, pro-
vided you allow mine; let me Drink, and you
ſhall Love; Claret that prepares me for your
Arms, and when I find my ſelf ruld by its
Energy divine, infpir'd with the God, I'll come
to your Arms, and convince you, by my Zeal,
that you have rail'd at your Friend ; and if In-
tereſt
' was the Source of your Advice, you'll
find it was a miſtaken Intereſt, as this Night
you ſhall experience from him that loves as dear-
ly and tenderly as Melaniſſa, that is, your
ALEXIS.
7"
N 3
On
294
తలలతల తలతిలతలరాతలల లలలతలతలతతతలతత
Nºw
On Mr. Prance's Hymn to the Pillory.
I.
W the Devil's old Agent, that brought
(to the Gallows,
In the Empire of Swearing, à Leaſh of poor
(Fellows,
With Eggs Aromatick, and Turnips aſſaulted,
And in wooden Machine, like his Brethren ex-
(alced,
Meets at laſt the Reward of his wearing and
(Sinning;
This, this of his Puniſhment, is the Beginning.
II.
Huzza! How the Eggs and the Oranges fly!
How the Witneſs they maul! How they darken
(the Sky !
Huzza! The poor Silver-Smith tells a ſad Ditty
To all the compaſſionate Hearts of the City;
While the Rabble does rail at the damnable
(Wretch,
And bids him adjourn to the Hands of Squire
(Ketch.
III.
"Come, Boys, come again, thc Encounter renew;
Give perjur'd Prance and the Devil their Due ;
While the Markets and Stalls any Luggageafford,
Keep on the Aſſault, let the Witneſs be ſtor'd!
Let your Kindneſs ne'er ceaſe, but diftribute your
(Dole ;
Make his Body as naſty and vile as his Soul.
Tbc
295
1
The Character of a Puritan; written
2
in the Reign of King William.
TE
A
Modern Saint! What is that monftrous
(Thing?
Friend to Se lition, Flatterer of his Kines
Brother to Envy, ſubtle Satan's Sony
Heir to thoſe Ills his Serpent Sire begun;
Without a Vizard, by hi: meagre Face,
Within a Devil, vamillid o'er with Grace;.
Dull, proud, imperious, ignorant, and grave, ,
In Pow'r a Tyrant, when reduc'd, a Slave; I
An envious Hypccrite, that prays and whines
At good Mens Welfare, more than for his Sins;
Fond of Diſſenţion, does the Church bely,
And in diſtracting Tempeſts, ſoars moſt high ;
Uſes Religion to diſguiſe his Fraud,
And ferves himfelf thereby, but nor his God;
Prays loud, and often with a Conſcience foul,
More in regard to Int’reſt than his Soul;
A quaint Diffembler, who does rious feem,
Not togain Heav'n, but win the World's Efteem:
In wicked Crimes the Zealot thrives a-pace,
Like poys'nous Hemlock, o'er the wholeſome
(Graſs :
And as he ſhoots, and makes the greater Show,
Like nauſeous Weeds, he does the ranker grow;
N
4
Spreads
_2
- 296 The Wonder of Wonders, &c.
.
Spreads and Impov'riſhes his native Ground,
And ſtints the nobler Herbs that fade around.
A Nettle in the Soil, that ſprouts too faſt,
And, (leeply rooting, lays the Garden waſte,
O'er runs our fruitful Eden by Degrees,
And drains the Sap from uſeful Plants and
(Trees.
So hungry Ling each gen'rous Grain will choak,
And Ivy, to its Ruin, hugs the Oak.
But, O! that we cou'd ſee that pow'rful Hand,
That plants ſo many Lawrels, weed our Land,
Then might we hope, the peaceful Palm wou'd
(grow,
And flouriſh, as Geneva Thorns do now;
But ſince our lofty Pines muſt be remov'd,
Aid worthleſs Thifles in their Room improv'd;
Whilſt ſuch rank Weeds are cheriſh'd and nia-
(nur’d,
The Plagues we ſuffer muſt remain uncur'd.
etsetakse sotsetootestgatoutsotsatsotsatser
The Wonder of Wonders; or, a rich
Vintner, and no Cuckold.
O
(free;
H! Happy F-ck, thou alone art he,
From jealous Stings and forked Antlers
No am'rous Coxcombs clutter round thy Bar,
To breathe their Paſlions in thy Help-mate's Ear;
Or at thy Bride their ſquinting Glances throw;
Whilt thou art mixing fatal Wines below,
Sush
The Wonder of Wonders, &c. 297
Such that with ſcorching Fevers fill our Veins,
And with inebrious Fumes diftract our Brains.
The bouncing Partner of thy nuptial Joys,
Who crowds thy Nurs'ry with ſuch thumping
(Boys,
Graces the Confines of her chaulky Throne,
At leaſt with two Cart-loads of Fleſh and Bone;
And ſeems, by her huge Sarazanick Face,
To be deriv'd of old Tagenna's Race;
Who was, if ancient Writers do not lye,
Twelve Fathom thick, and ſeventy Cubits high.
But thine's a Fairy to fo tall a Dame,
And cannot tow'r to ſuch a lofty Fame;
Yet none that ever view'd her, makes a Doubt,
But that fhe's ſix Foot high, and twelve about ;
Yet th'as ſuch Charms in her gigantick Face,
And moves with ſuch an Elephant-like Grace,
That were Antaus living, thou might'ſt dread
A Rival then, that might adorn thy Head.
But ſince Mankind to Pigmies are declin'd,
And no ſuch monſtrous Men we now can find,
Thou’rt ſafe from all the horned Plagues that
(wait
On Love, and need not fear Acteon's Fate ;
For tho' thy Bride appears fo fat and fine,
She's far too big for any Arms but thine.
What, tho' no Moon at full, with all her
(Light,
Can ſhew a Countenance'more large and bright;
And that her ſnowy Breaſts look big, and ſpread,
Like two Peck Loaves of whiteft Flour made;
Yet who can tell but that which hidden lies,
May prove by chance of a delightful Size,
Since
*)
a
N5
298 The Wonder of Wonders, &c.
Since Greenland Sea-men from Experience note,
That the huge Whale has but a narrow Throat:
The mighty Monſter, arm’d with Iv'ry Tooth,
Tho' large his Limbs, has but a little Mouth.
What, tho' her Bélly looks as if the bore,
Beneath her Clouts, a Sack of Malt before,
To keep the fpacious Centre of her Charms
Beyond the luftfal Reach of common Arms ;
For her Temptation, as ſhe upright ſtands,
Lies too remote by much, for human Hands;
And from Affaults and Bobs is ſafe and free,
Till Love's huge Pillars are diſclos'd for thee,
What, tho' her ſwelling Buttocks chafe be
(hind,
And like too Mill-ftones, as ſhe waddles, grindy
It is a pleaſing Sign ſhe has no need
Of artful Pillows in her Nuptial Bed ;
But that th’as Fleih enough, when huggʻd at
(Night,
To raiſe her Charms to a convenient Height.
: Therefore make much of thy gigantick
(Bride,
For all the World believes ſhe never try'd
Love's tickling Joys with any Man balide.
England's
299
E
England's Triumph for their Conqueſt
in Flanders, in the rear 1694, when
the French took Namur, worſted
us at Steenkirk, and General Ïal-
maſh was kill'd at the Deſcent up-
on Breft. A Burleſque Poem. By"
Mr. Tho. Brown.
Hen People find their Money ſpent,
,
The like in order to prevent
for future.
That Money's fpent, I need not tell,
The French King's Tyranny to quell;
I'm ſure we muft remember well,
'tis true, Sir.
But leaſt that we ſhou'd think it vain,
Our Engliſh Feats I will proclaim,
And what we did the laſt Campaign
in Flanders
With Money fluſh'd, and Arms good ſtore,
We'd touch the French to 'th quick we ſwore,
With that in Haft we hurry'd o'er
Commanders.
But
300 England's Triumph for
But fcarce they'd ſet their Foot on Shore,
But News was brought that Luxemburg
Had actually beſieg'd Namure,
nigh Liege, Sir.
This A&tion put 'em in Amaze,
And
yet if they ſhou'd make Delays,
They thought they hardly e'er fhoud raiſe
the Siege, Sir.
With that they ſummon all their Force,
Full fourſcore thouſand Foot and Horſe,
That never finch, nor hang an Arſe,
when fighting.
But yet all this, did prove in vain,
They not an Inch of Grouod cou'd gain,
There was ſuch Storms of Thunder, Rain,
and Lightning
The Seaſon bad did make 'em fret,
Not that they fear'd the French a bit,
But that it was ſo curſed wet,
raw Weather.
And raiſe the Siege they cou'd not do't,
It was ſo dirty under Foot;
The French were ftrong intrench'd to boot,
together.
On this they frequent Counſels call,
In which they voted, one and all,
That leaſt the French thou'd chance to maul
the Army,
'Twas better let the Town be taken,
Provided they cou'd ſave their Bacon ;
The Weather too in Time might happen
leſs ſtormy.
Thus
their Conqueſt in Flanders. 301
a
Thus being, as you hear, diſtreſs’d,
They think it now high Time to reft,
And full two Months they took at leaſt
to do it.
When thus refreſh d, then up they roſe,
And ſwore if none did them oppoſe,
They'd be reveng'd, and make their'Foes
to rue it.
Away they march, with full Intent
To pay theſe French a Complement,
And drub them to their Hearts content,
but mark, Sir.
The Freneb their Coming underſtood,
And therefore lin'd a little Wood,
Where they their Party did make good
’till dark, Sir.
Theſe cunning Rogues had manag'd ſo,
That we receiv'd another Blow,
Which might have prov'd our overthrow,
Here our poor Engliſh go to Pot,
Becauſe, forſooth, it is their Loe
To undergo all Service hot,
we find it.
We had about ſeven thouſand lain,
But that is nothing in the main,
Conſidering what we hope to gain
next Battle.
Then we'll recover all again,
With one of ours we'll kill them ten,
'Till we have waſted all their Men, -
meer Rattle.
pray mind it.
But
302 England's Triumph for
But now tho’this Attempt did fail,
We'd ſtill a Trick that wou'd prevail,
And make Monfieur his Stars bewail,
with Sorrow.
We had a Proje&t un-der-hand,
That ſoon wou'd make him underſtand,
He muſt no longer keep the Land
h' had borrow'd.
This noble Whim to execute,
A mighty Fleet was fitted out,
And I almaſh is the Man mußt do't,
or no Man.
Away he goes, with might and main,
To try if he cou'd Footing gain,
But there the gallant Man is flain,
brave Roncam
Namur we ſaw to France ſubmit,
At Steenkirk w'had enough of it,
And the Deſcent did prove befhit
all over.
Our Conqueſt thus at length you view,
And how the French we did fubdue;
Our Triumphs next I will to you
diſcover
The Tower-Guns were all prepar'd,
And Fire-works on Lighters rear'd ;
But what came on them, I ne'er heard
4 verbuns.
In Houſes all Folks ſet up Lights,
Only ſome fawcy Jacobites,
Who were all put to mortál Frights,
to curb 'em
First
their Conqueſt in Flanders. 303
Firſt came the Guards to clear the Way,
And next a 'Squire in Boots of Hay,
Upon a Nag moſt miſerably
jaded.
Maſons and Bricklayers, with their Rules,
Join with the other Rout of Fools,
Who were to be the Party's Tools
perſwaded.
Next there, in Droves the Rabble come,
In one Hand Club, in t’other Stone,
Thoſe Windows that had Candles none,
to batter.
Laſt came a Coach, in which there fate
Four Lords, who went, as People prate,
The General to congratulate
and flatter.
But after all, it must be ſaid,
Our Conqueſt was not quite fo bad,
But they theſe Triumphs merited,
and more, Sir.
For never yet, as I preſume,
Was Britiſh Prince, or Emp'ror of Rome,
With Farthing Candles lighted Home
before, Sir.
The
304
21,
TAULALA
MA
ELI
The Chara&ers of several ingenious de-
figning Gentlerwomen, that put in to
the Ladies Invention. Which was
intended to be drawn when full.
A
I.
Barber's Daughter near the Ex-
change, who, they ſay, could up-
on a good Occaſion ſwallow a
Morſel as long as her Fathers
Pole, has melted down her Grandmother's Sil-
yer Thimble and Bodkin, refolving to ſee what
Providence will give her in the Lottery. She
bas been ſo long u'ed to the fingering of Balls,
that the’s ſtark mad to be meddling with ſome-
thing that reſembles them. But wanting a
Fortune to help her off, has Wiſdom enough
to depend upon the Proverb that favours Fools.
11. A certain Lady, 110t a Day s Journey from
St. James's Plact, plump and beautiful, kept
for ſome Time by a great Min concern'd'in the
Ordnance, finding Ammunition growing ſcarce
with her Lover, and that he can't give Fire ſo
vigoroully as formerly, has prevail'd with hiin
to
The Ladies Invention.
305
to let her put in the laſt ten Guineas he gave
her in part of Payment of her Penſion, to try
her Luck for a good Benefit. If ſhe ſucceeds,
'tis not doubted but ſhe'll have Store of Pre-
tenders. Whatſoever becomes of her ſelf, The's
reſolv'd to ſend her Husband to Heaven, if
Cuckoldom will do it, and that's ſome Com-
fort, however.
III. Two young Ladies, Daughters to a Tar-
key Merchant, (who lives not full twenty Miles
from the Church-yard without Biſhopſgate, and
whoſe Uncle will be choſen Lord-Mayor, when
the Church gets the better of the Diffenters)
have obtaind of their Father, who is natural-
ly covetous, to put in 6 d. a-piece, in order
to try their Fortunes. They are very tall for
their Age, tolerably hanſome, but have a Go-
vernante as ugly as Mother Shipton. They may
be ſeen at any Hour of the Day in their Fa-
ther's Court, ſporting with a young Italian
Grey-hound, or playing at Hot-cockles with a
curl-pated Negro
IV. An Actreſs at the New-houſe has ven-
tur'd 23 s. half her Week's Pay, hoping that if
ſhe gets the fortunate Lot, his Lord thip will
like her the better : She has a very good Com-
plexion hy Candle-light, and the World chari-
tably thinks ſhe has not loſt her. Virginity,
V. A Buxom reputed young Virgin, who was
put in the laſt Auction for Ladies, failing of
Succeſs there, has ventur'd her Money in this,
as ſhe did her Reputation in that. The Sum
fut in is 75, 6d. She is to be ſpoken with at
her
+
306 The Ladies Invention.
her Back Window, near the Three Tun Tavern
by the Bar.
VI. An affected Lady, whoſe Father was a
poor Knight, and whoſé Sifter knows how to
live by her Wits, finding that becauſe the was
lame and ugly, the cou'd not have the ſame
-Admirers; has borrow'd 35. 6 d. of the Chair-
woman who cleanſeth her Lodgings, in order,
by the adventuring it, to get ſomething to pur-
chaſe a Lover. She may be found most Hours
of the Day at her Chamber, next Door to the
Sky-light in St. James's Palace, and as the pre-
tends to Poetiy, has a Poetical Lodging (viz.)
a Garrer.
VII. AB's Daughter, not three Miles
from Criptirgate, whoſe Father quotes Greek as
freely as if he underſtood it, but not having
Ten thouſand a Year, can't ſatisfy her Ambie
tion with a ſuitable Fortune, has wheedled the
old Gentleman out of the laſt Fee his Curate
took for purring a Couple to Bed, and has
put in ten Shillings. She is damnable Ugly, and
wonderfully Proud, but humbly conceives ile
ha as good Pretentions to an Husband' as any
of her Sex.
VIII. A Serjeant's Daughter, whoſe Father
is lately deceas d, living near Sbeer-lane, who
wants 3400 1. to make up a Sum, in order to
have a Settlement of 2000 l. per Annum as a
Jointure, has adventur'd 51. 2s. 6 d. She is
pretty well ſtricken in Years, and eſteems a
Lover not by the Strength of his Back, but that
of his Purſe.
!
IX. A
Tbe Ladies Invention. 307
BEN
E
IX. A juicy young Seamſtreſs, living at the
Sign of the Fifteen Shillings in Thread-needle
Row in the Exchange, has ventur'd 6 s. upon
the fame Bottom. The chief Perſon in her Af-
fections is a Hoſier, who the hopes will prove
as mettled and vigorous as the Animal in his
{igy, which is a Cock,
x. A Senator's Daughter, who has her pre-
fent Reſidence in a Street not far from St. James's
Church, has put in a Jacobus, which her Fa-
ther gave her for a New Year's Gift. She is
to be ſeen conſtantly at the Hours of Prayers in
St. James's Church, with her Tickets in her
Focket; and may be known, by her looking
languiſhingly through her Fingers at any Gen-
tleman fhe takes a Fancy to.
XI. A Merchant's Niece, not an Hour's March
from Leudenhall-ftreet, who has an old covetous
Fool for an Uacle, who ufes to divert himſelf
with the noble Recreation of Flogging, and
who has ogked out of her Window as much as
any young Girl in the Street, but all to no Pure
poſe; borrowed the Price of a Mittimils of her
Uncle's Clerk, ani ſent it to Frank's Coffee-
houſe, hoping the hall meet with a favourable
Prize, to buy her a Bed-fellow.
XII. A Bookſeller's Daughter, who has been
lately cured of a Tympany, by riding on a
Trotting-horſe, and is in Hopes of getting à
rich Batchelor with a fiery Face, not two Doors
from her, has, after much Entreaty, prevaild
with her whining Father, to put in the Sum of
I s. 6 d. in hopes to get the chief Prize. She
fays, the has been ready for the Preſs theſe
eight
3
។
.
a
al
308
The Ladies Invention.
eight Years, and cannot reſt till fome courte-
ous Spark or other will give himſelf the Pains
to open the Leaves of her Duodecimo.
XIII. A Serjeant at Law's two Daughters,
whoſe Father loves Claret heartily, and lives
not twenty Doors from Arundel-ftrert, are re-
ſolv'd, if poſible, to make their 800 l. a-piece
a full 1000 l. and have for that End put in 12 s.
each, in order to get rid o their Maidenheads,
which they find are burdenſome to keep.
XIV. A Virgin, aged 36, who lives at pre-
ſent with a marry'd Country Lady in Covent-
Garden, having gnaw'd the Sheets theſe twenty
Years, has ventur'd 2 s. 6 d. the laſt Fee which
her Brother-in-Law, a Student in Phyſick, pre-
ſented her with. She is very Talkative, hates
to lie alone, and had the good Forture to be
drawn laſt Valentine's Day. The Perſon that
ventures on her will have a plenteous Belly-
full of Love.
XV. An old rich Drugſter's Daughter in
Ald-gate-ftrert, who has left off his Trade,
finding her Friends will not let her go abroad
in Search of a Sweet-heart, like her other Siſter,
who was ſtoln by a Taylor, has put in 12 d.
in order to have ſomething to tempt the Sparks
to come Home to her. She is young and hand-
ſome, and if a Gentleman would but fling a
filk Ladder up to her Window, he need not
doubt her venturing her Neck to come down
to him..
XVI. An Actreſs at the old Houfe, lineally
deſcended from a Retailer of Rumps and Kid-
neys, has put in 19 s, which is as much as the
a
can
The Ladies Invention.
309
a
can ſpare, and if Fortune favour her, 'tis
thought Élkanah will be diſcarded, and no-
thing below a Country Squire will go down
with her. By her Movement on the Stage one
may gueſs at her Activity in Bed. She has a
a
good Gait, but a ſtinking Breath, and is very
quarrelſome with the Prompter.
XVII, A Merchant's Daughter in Devonſhire-
Square, who has a very handſome Woman for
her Mother, but is her ſelf as ugly as her Fa-
ther ; reſolving to get her a Hulband, as well
as her Aunt, who laid on her Friend's Hands
till about a Year ago, has exchang'd all her
ready Stock for ten Tickets: This has made
her very godly, for the goes twice a Day. to
Church, to pray that her Venture may come
Home ſafe.
XVIII. A Nobleman's Daughter, a conſtant
Cutomer at the Chapel of White-ball, that
takes up her Seat near the Altar, and curls an
Amen the beſt of any in the Congregation,
ſentſ her Footman to a certain Coffee-houſe, to
take out twenty Tickets: She manages her face
extraordinary well, and is not ſuch a Natural
but the can uſe Art. 'Tis ſuppos'd ſhe would
not kick a Gentleman out of Bed that would
venture between a Pair of Sheets with her La-
dyſhip.
XIX. A Bookſeller's Daughter, near the Weſt-
end of St. Paul's, whoſe Father did himſelf the
Honour to Dine with my Lord Mayor for two
Guineas, has ventur'd II s. She's true Pauls
Church-yard Fleſh and Blood, longs to be bound
up in the Calf-skin of Matrimony, and hopes
to
310
The Ladies Invention.
to ſee three Editions, that is, to bury three Hur-
bands. She's a great Admirer of Romances ; by
the ſame Token ſhe never reads of a Damorel
ravish'd by a diſcourteous Knight, but the
wiſhes her ſelf in her Place. What ſhe wants
in Beauty, fhe makes up in Courage, and dare
truſt her ſelf in the Dark with the bloodieft-
minded Ruffian in the Nation
A
311
664
TROUS) OUTDOOR
A Criticiſm on the Stage, or an Ejay
upon TRAGEDY. Tranſlated by
Mr. Tho. Browti.
T is my Opinion, that the French
excel in Works of the Theatre; and,
I believe, I ſhou'd not flatter Cor
neille, if to many of his Tragedies
I gave a Pre-eminence to thoſe of
Antiquity. I know the ancient Tragic Poets
have had Admirers in all Ages; but I queſti-
on whether this Loftineſs, both of Place and
Wit, afcrib'd 'em by their Admirers, has any
folid Foundation.
To make us believe that Sophocles and Euri-
pides, are as admirable as they tell us, we
muft fancy many more Things in their own
Works, than what we can learn from their
Tranſlators; and, in my Mind, the Words and
Language mult claim a conſiderable Portion in
a
their Beauty.
Through
312
.
An Eſay upon TRAGEDY.
1
a
Through the Praiſes of their moſt renowned
and moſt partial Adorers, (methinks) I ſee
and perceive, that Grandeur, Magnificence, and,
chiefly, Dignity, were Things very little known
by ’em: They were a Parcel of good Wits,
coop'd up in a narrow Family of a ſmall Com-
mon-wealth, to whom a neceflitous Liberty
ſerv'd inſtead of all manner of Things.
Put 'em upon repreſenting the Majeſty of a
great Monarch, they ſcarcely
knew how to en-
ter on fuch an unknown Grandeur : Their
Senſes were ſo us'd and ſubject to baſe and
mean Objects, that they could hardly avoid
them.
'Tis true, theſe Wits diſtaſting ſuch Objects,
ſometimes heav d themſelves up to fomething
wonderful and ſublime: But then, they wou'd
be ever bringing ſo many Gods and Goddeſſes
into their Tragedies, that a Man could meet
with nothing Mortal or Human in 'em : What
was Great, was Fabulous ; what was Natural,
was Poor and Crawling.
In Corneille, Height and Grandeur is known
by it ſelf: The Figures, he uſes, are handſome,
when he has a Mind to adorn with ſome Oro
nament his Diſcourſes ; but, generally, he nego
lects thoſe extravagant Sallies, and does not
go a hunting into the Heavens for ſomething
to ſet off that which is already confiderable
enough on Earth: He thinks it fufficient to
make a right Entrance into Things; and the
full and juft Image he gives us of them, makes
that true Impreſſion, which Men of good Senſe
love to receive.
a
In
An Eſay upon TRAGEDY! 313
st
In effect, moſt admirable every where is Na.
ture': And when Men have Recourſe to that
ſtrange and borrow'd Splendor, wherewith they
think to embelliſh Objects, 'tis frequently a
tacit Confeſſion that they do not know their
Propriety and true Nature. Hence proceed the
greateſt part of our Figures and Compariſons,
which I cannot approve of, unleſs they come
very feldom, be altogether noble, and altoge-
ther juſt : Otherwiſe, by this fubtile Dexteri.
ty, they ſeek a Diverſion to turn a Man's
Thoughts away from the Things which them-
ſelves do not underſtand. Yet, whatever Beau-
ty Similies may have, they agree much better
with an Epic Poem than a Tragedy. In an
Epic Poem the Mind ſeeks its Divertiſement
out of the main Subject ; but in a Tragedy,
the Soul being full of Thought, and crowded
with Paſſion, does not eaſily move at the meer
glittering of a Similitude.
To return to thoſe Antients, from whom our
Diſcourſe has inſenſibly wander'd, and that we
may do 'em Juſtice, we muſt confeſs, that they
have ſucceeded much better in expreſſing the
Qualities of their Heroes, than in deſcribing
the Magnificence of great Kings. A confus'd
Idea of the Glories of Babylon, did rather ſpoil
than exalt their Imagination: But their Wit
could not commit any Miſtake as to Strength,
Conſtancy, Juſtice, and Wiſdom, whereof they
had evermore Examples before their Eyes.
Their Senſe being diſengag'd from Pride, in a
little Common-wealth, left their Reaſon more
free to conſider Men by themſelves,
VOL. V.
O
Thus
ho
1
1
314 An Eſay upon TRAGEDY.
Thus nothing diverted them from ſtudying
human Nature, from applying their Minds to
the Knowledge of Vices and Virtues, of Tem-
pers and Inclinations. By this Means they
learn’d to form their Characters ſo well, that a
Man cannot wiſh 'em to be more juſt accord-
ing to the Age wherein they liv'd. Tho' we
may be ſatisfy'd with knowing Perſons by their
Actions, yet Corneille did believe it was not
enough to make them aet ; he went to the ve-
ry Bottom of their Souls, to find out the Prin-
ciple of thoſe Actions ; he deſcended into their
Hearts, to ſee how the Paſſions were formd,
and to difcover what was moſt hidden in their
Motions.
As for the ancient Tragique Poets, either
they neglect the Paſſions, to keep cloſer to the
exact Repreſentation of Incidents, or elſe they
bring grave Talkers, even in the midſt of Di.
ftreſs and Perturbations, and give you ſtarch'd
Sentences, when you expect Trouble and De-
fpair.
Corneille robs us of nothing of what paſſes,
but brings every Action into View as far as
Decency permits : Yet ſtill, to 'his Thought,
he gives all the Extent it requires, conducting
Nature without perplexing or abandoning it
to) much to it ſelf.
Whatever was barbarous he has prun'd off
from the ancient Theatre : He has mollify'd
the Horror of its Scene, by certain Tender.
neſſes of Love, judiciouſly diſtributed ; but he
has taken no leſs Care to keep up our Fear
2011 cur Pity in his Tragical Subjects, not di-
verting
:
An Eſay upon TRAGEDY. 315
T
E
19
52
verting the Soul from thoſe true Paſſions which
it ſhould feel, to thoſe little troubleſome Sights,
which, tho' varied a hundred Times, never
ceaſe appearing always the ſame.
What Praiſes foever I give this excellent Au-
thor, I do not ſay, that his Pieces are the only
that deſerve Applauſe upon the French Theatre.
The French have been taken with Alcyone, So-
phonifa, Mariamne, Stilico, Andromache, Bri-
tannicus, and many others, whoſe Excellence
I do not pretend to call in Queſtion, by not
urging them as Proofs of my Aſſertion.
I avoid, as much as poſſible, 'being diftaſt
ful ; and I ſhall think it ſufficient to ſay, that
never any Nation could diſpute with Cours)
the Advantage of excelling in Tragedies.
As to thoſe of the Italians, they are hardly
worth mentioning; to name 'em only is enough
to make a Man fick: Their Feaſt of Peter would
kill the patienteft Soul upon Earth, 'tis ſo tire:
fom; and never did I ſee it, but I wilh d the
Author of that Piece Thunder-ſtruck with his
Atheiſt.
There are four or five Engliſh Tragedies, in
which many Things ought to be retrench'd ;
and with this Curtailing they would be ren.
der'd altogether exact and compleat.
In all the reſt you can ſee nothing but Mat-
ter without Form and Digeſtion, an Heap of
confuſed Events : And without Conſideration
of Places or Times, without any Regard to
Decertcy, their cruel Eyes delight to ſee Blood,
and Wounds, and moſt direful Murders.
BI
3
02
T6
316 An Eſay upon TRAGEDY.
To take away the Horror of theſe Things, by
Narrations and Recitals, as is us'd in France,
would be to rob the People of the Sight of what
affects 'em moft.
Men of Senſe do diſallow of this Cuſtom,
eſtabliſh'd perchance on no very human Senſe
in the Minds of Men : But it is an ancient Ha-
bit and Way, wherein the Nation's Taſte in
general prevails over the Delicacy of particular
Perſons.
To die, is ſo trivial a Thing among the Eng?
.
liſh, that to move them there is need of Ideas and
Images more dreadful than Death it ſelf. Upon
this Account the French reproach 'em with allow-
ing too much to their Senſes in the Theatre. On
the other Hand, the French muſt take that Re-
crimination very kindly from them, of paſſing
into the other Extremity, when they admire
ſuch Tragedies only that have little Softneſſes,
which make but flight Impreſſion on the Mind.
Sometimes their Hearts, being very ill ſatisfied
with a Tenderneſs which has been ill drawn,
they ſeek for a farther Emotion in the Acting
of the Players. Sometimes they will have the
Actor be more tranſported than the Poet, and
lend ſome Fury and Deſpair to a meán Agi-
tation and too common a Grief.
In a Word, that which ought to be tender,
is only ſweet'; what is to create Pity, only
cauſes Tenderneſs: A meer Emotion ſerves in-
ſtead of the Aſtoniſhment of Horror.
Something that is profound and ſearching, is
wanting to our Sentiments : And the Paſſion,
being touch'd but by halves, excites only im-
perfect
a
An Eſay upon COMEDY.
317
perfect Motions in our Souls, which do neither
leave them in their proper Seat, nor yet raiſe
'em up above themſelves.
张​张​张​张​张​杂​****张​张​张​张​*****法​*******杀
​Upon COMEDY.
S to Comedy, which ought to re-
preſent or dinary Life and com-
mon Converſation, the French
have altogether türn'd it upon
Gallantry, in Imitation of the
Spaniards ; not confidering, that
the Antients made it their whole Buſineſs to
repreſent humane Life according to the Di-
verſity of Humours; and that the Spaniurds,
to follow their own proper Bent and Genius,
have only defcrib'd and painted out the Life
of Madrid in their Intriegues and Adventures.
I confeſs, this ſort of Work among the Anti-
ents might have had a much more noble Air,
and more gallant : But this was rather the
Fault of thoſe Ages, than the Fault of thoſe
Authors. Now-a-days the greater Part of our
Poets are as little acquainted with the Man--
ners, as the former with Gallantry.. You wou'd
ſwear, there are no more covetous Rogues now
living ; no more Spend-thrifts ; no more good-
natur'd Men, of an Humour fit for Society; no
more People naturally peeviſh, gloomy, and
auſtere ; as if Nature were chang'd, and Men
had worn out theſe ſeveral Humours. Now
all are - repreſented under the ſame Character ;
O 3
the
1
318
An Eſay upon COMEDY.
the Reaſon of which I can't imagine, unleſs it
be this, That the Women in our Days have
found it very ſeaſonable, that there ought to bo
no Creatures in the World but Gallants.
I muſt acknowledge, that the Madrid-Wits
are much more fruitrul in Invention than the
French : For this Reaſon, the latter have tak-
en thence the greateſt Part of their Subjects,
which they have crowded with amorous or ten-
der Diſcourſes, and in which they have put
more Regularity and Probability. The Cauſe
of theſe Adventures in Spain is, that the Wc-
men there, are ſeldom or never ſeen : The
Poer's Imagination is ſpent in ingenious Ways
to bring the Lovers together ; whereas in France,
where a free Liberty of Commerce is ſettled, the
Author's greateſt Delicacy is employd in the
tender and lovely Expreſſions of Thoughts.
'Tis not long, ſince a Lady of Quality, in
Spain, read the Romance of Cleopatra; and
happening, after z long Narration of Adven-
tures, to fall upon a very curious and nice Conde
verſation betwixt a Lover and his Miſtreſ,
that had an equal Paſſion one for the other ;
God bleſs me, ſays ſhe ! What a World of Wit
is here ill imploy'd ? What fignify all theſe fine
Diſcourſes, when they are got both together?
This Reflection was as pleaſant as natural, and
Galprenety ought to have remember'd, that;, to
Lovers born under a Sun much hotter than that
of Spain, Words were very uſeleſs on ſuch Oca
caſions. But this Lady's good Senſe would ne-
ver be receiv'd in the ordinary Gallantries de
mong the French, where a Man may ſpeak a
thouſand
1
a
An Eſ ay upon COMEDY. 319
5
thouſand times of a Paſſion, before he can be
orice believ'd, and be whole Years making Com-
plaints, before he can meet with the happy
Minute of putting a Period to his Torment,
The coy Thing of Moliere, is ridiculous in
the Matter, as well as the Terms, in not read-
ing the Romance backward, when the ſerious
Affair of Marriage is to be treated with the Pa-
rents, but it had been no falſe Nicety in a
Lover, to expect his Declaration, and all that
comes by Degrees in the Progreſs of a Gallantry.
As for Regularity and Veriſimilitude, 'tis 110
wonder we meet with 'em leſs among the Spa-
niards, than among the French: As all the Spate
niſh Gallantry came from the Moors, there ſtill
remains in't ſome Reliſh of Africa, unknown
to other Nations, and too extraordinary to be
accommodated to the Exactneſs of Rules.
To this add, that an old Impreſſion of Knight-
Errantry,
which has the Afcendant over all Spain,
does biaſs the Minds of the Cavaliers to mighty
filly Adventures. The young Ladies, on their
Parts, in their very Child-hood, draw in this
Air from the Books of Chivalry, and the fabu-
lous Tales of the Old Women about them. So
that both Sexes fill their Minds with the ſame
Ideas, and equally eſteem the Scruple of an amo-
rous Extravagance, as a poor Coldneſs unworthy
of their Paflion.
Though Love, in no Country what-ever,
takes very good and accurate Meaſures, yet fill
this I will fay, that it hath nothing very extra-
vagant in Franct; either in the Manner of it's
making, or in its ordinary Events. That,
04
which
320 An Eſ ay upon COMEDY.
which is call'd a true Paſſion, has much ado
to preſerve it ſelf from being laugh’d at: For
the People of Quality, being engag’d in ſeveral
Cares and Employs, never devote their Thoughts
to it, as the Spaniards do, amidſt the * inglori.
ous Eaſe of Madrid, where there is no Motion,
but what proceeds from Love.
At Paris, the continual Hurry of the Court
ties Men up to the Function of a Charge, or elſe
the Deſign of an Employment keeps them awake,
Fortune prevailing over the Mifreſs in a Place,
where the Cuſtom is for a Man to prefer what is
his Intereſt before what he Loves : And the
Ladies, who are to regulate themſelves accord.
ingly, have more Gallantry than Paffion, and
beſides do make uſe of their Gallantry to dive
into Intriegues,
There are very few, who are not fway'd by
Vanity and Intereft, which makes Things go
the eaſier on both sides; for the Gallant makes
uſe of his Miſtreſs, and ſhe of her Gallant reci-
procally, to attain their particular Aims and
Deſigns.
Love will always intrude and mingle with
this Intereſt, but ſeldom or never gets the Ma-
ſtery of it. For the Conduct which Men are
oblig'd to keep in their Affairs, does adapt and
faſhion 'em to ſome Regularity in their Plea-
ſures, or at leaſt diſtances them from any ex-
travagant Actions.
In
* In the French Inutilitè, which I render in Virgil's
Language, Ignobile Otium. Georg. lib. 4.
An El ay upon COMDET. 321
mi
In Spain, to live, is to love : What they call
Love in France, is only to talk of Love (in Pro--
priety of ſpeaking] and to mix vain Gallantries
with the Sentiments of Ambition.
Theſe Differences being conſider'd, no Man
can think it ſtrange, that the Spaniſh Comedy,
which is nothing elſe but the Repreſentation of
their Adventures, Thou'd have as little Regula-
rity as the Adventures themſelves; nor any
more can he admire, that the Comedy among
the French, which follows the Cuſtoms of their
Country, ſhou'd keep up thoſe Reſpects in the
Repreſentation of their Amours, as they com-
monly keep in the Amours themſelves. I con-
fefs, good Senſe, which ought to be a Native
of all Countries in the World, does eſtablish
certain Things, which in no Part can be with
al diſpens'd. Yet it's a hard Matter, omy
Word, not to allow much to Cuſtom ; ſince
Arifto le himſelf, in his Art of Poetry, fome-
times places Perfection in what was believ'd and
thought better at Athens, and not in what was
really the moſt perfect.
Comidy hath no more Privilege than the
Laws, which ought not all to be founded upon
Juſtice, yet nevertheleſs have particular Difcri-
minations, according to the different Genius
of the People that make them. And if a Man
he oblig'd to preſerve the Air of Antiquity, if
he is to keep up the Character of Heroes that,
are dead two thouſand Years ſince, when he
repreſents 'em upon the Sage, how can he not
follow the Humours, and fit himſelf to the
Manners of thoſe now alive, when he repre-,
fents
}
05
322 An Eſſay upon COMEDY.
fents to their Eyes that which they do every
Day themſelves ?
Yet what Authority foever Cuſtom is pleas'd
to aſſume, yet undoubtedly Reafon holds the
primary Rites; but its Exactneſs ought not to
be harſh and rigid. For, in Things deſign'd
purely for Pleaſure, as Comedy is, it is unkind
and troubleſom to enſlave a Man to an auftere
Order, and to begin with the Rack, in Subjiets
where we only ſeek for Diverſion.
Upon Italian COMEDY,
OU have heard what I had to ſay of the
Y Pro
French and the Spaniſh Comedy: I ſhall
now tell you my Thoughts of the Italian. I
ſhall not ſpeak of Amyntus, Paftor, Fido, Phil-
lis, Cyrus, and other Comedies of the like Na-
ture. A Man muſt underſtand the Graces of
the Italian Tongue a great deal better than I
do: For, tho I am charm'd with Amyntas per-
haps more than any Italian, 'tis becauſe I make
a thorough Paſſage into the Poet's Mind, and
apprehend the Things more ſharply than the
Verſes. On the other Hand, in this Diſcourſe
I deſign to ſpeak of Comedy, as it is ordinari.
ly ſeen upon the Stage. That which is ſhewn
up and down in France, of the Italian Theatre,
is not properly Comedy, ſince it has no true
Platform; the Subject has no Ligament to tye
the Parts together; nothing of Character is
well
An EN ay upon COMEDr.
233
well kept, nor of Compoſition, whereby a hap-
py Wit is well guided, at leaſt according to
Tome Rules of Art : But it is only a kind of ill-
manag’d Confort among many Actors, where
every Body ſupplies and provides, of himſelf,
what he judges fit for his proper Perſon : 'Tis
(in ſhort, and to ſpeak my Mind) a Medly and
Heap of impertinent tunable Words in the
Mouths of Inamorato's, and curſedly foolish
Buffooneries in thoſe of Zanis,
You can ſee nothing of true Judgment any
where, but falſe Wit, which reigns either in
very heavenly-minded Thoughts, as Suns, Stars,
and Elements, or in an Affectation of Nawité
and Plain-dealing, that has nothing of true
Nature.
I confeſs the Buffoons are inimitable : And a-
mong
the hundreds of Imitators or Poſture-Ma-
ſters that I have ſeen, there has not one come
near reſembling them in their Grimaces, their
Motions, their Agility, their Feats of Activity,
their Diſpoſition to change their Faces as they
pleaſe. I know not whether the Mimi and
Puntomimi, among the Antients, had any great
Advantage over them, tho' we read very won-
drous Things of 'em. ''Tis certain a Man muſt
love ſuch Raillery and unhappy Merriment, to
be really affected with what he hears. He muſt
alſo be of a very grave and compos'd Humour,
not to laugh at what he ſees : And 'would be
a too-too-much affected Moroſeneſs, not to be
pleas'd at their Acting, tho' a Man of a deli-
cate Ear would not take any Pleaſure in their
Diſcourſe.
ΑΙΣ
1
324 An Eſ ay upon COMEDY.
All Repreſentations, in which Wit bears no
ſhare, are troubleſome at the Long-run; but yet
they fail not to ſurprize, and be agreeable fome-
time before they grow troubleſom ; as Buffoons
divert a Man of Senſe only by Whiles and In-
terims. The Art is to put a Stop to it in due
Time, and not allow the Mind Space to return
to the Juſtneſs of Thinking and Diſcourſe, and
to the Idea of undiſguis'd Nature. This Oeco-
nomy, as it is wanted, ſo it is to be deſir'd and
with'd for in the Italian Comedy. For the firſt
Diſtaſte is follow'd by a new Trouble, much
more weariſom ; and the Variety, inſtead of re-
freſhing you, brings only a new fort of Droop-
ing.
În few Words, When you have been moſt une
mercifully tir'd with the Buffoons, that have
ſtaid too long on the Stage, to compleat your
Ruin the amorous Hot-ſpurs appear. This, in
my Opinion, is the laſt and utmoſt Puniſhment,
that can be inflicted on a judging Perſon; and
a Man wou'd have greater Reaſon to prefer rea-
dy and immediate Death to the Patience of
hearing them out, than Boccalini's Lacedemoni.
än had, when he preferr'd the Gibbet before that
long and tedious Reading the War of Piſa, in
Guicciardin's Hiſtory. If ſome one, that is
overfond of Life, can weather-out fó mortal a
Laſſitude, inſtead of recovering himſelf by ſome
pleaſurable Diverſion, he finds no Change, but
prefently meets with another dreadful Bufinefs,
wliich makes him deſpair, and think of nothing
but a State of Separation, and that is the Do-
&or. To deſcribe well the Folly of a Doctor,
I know
1
An Eſ ay upon COMEDY. 325
а
I know, it muſt be done in ſuch ſort, that he
túrns all his Diſcourſe and Converſation upon
the Science wherewith he is poſſeft, (even in
the worſt Senſe of the Word ;) and that he
never anſwers to what is ſaid to him, but
quote a thouſand Authors, and alledge a'thou.
fand Paſſages with ſuch a Nimbleneſs of Tongue,
as ſhall put him out of Breath : This is to in-
troduce a Fool on the Stage, that ought to be
chain'd up in Bethlehem, and not rightly to ma-
nage the Impertinence of a Doctor.
Petronius has taken quite another Way in his
ridiculing Eumo.phus. The Pedantry of Sidias
is otherwiſe handled by Theophilus, to whom
the Praiſe is due, of knowing how to form
the moſt accompliſh'd Character that is be-
ftow'd upon this fort of Pedants. That of
Charitides in Moliere's Facheux, is altogether
juſt: Nothing can be taken from it, without
disfiguring the Picture. And theſe are the
learnedly-ridiculous Creatures, whoſe Repre-
ſentation would pleaſe the Pit.
But 'tis a bad Divertiſement to a Man of
Senſe, to bring him a wretched Doctor, whom
Books have made a Fool, and who ought very
carefully to be lock’d, up (as I ſaid) left the
World ſhould ſee the weak and mean Eſtate
of Mans Condition, and the Miſery of Human
Nature.
Now, that I may not ſtretch too far my Ob.
ſervations on the Italian Comedy, and to
ſum up all, I have display'd, in a few Words;
I ſay, that inftead of agreeable Lovers, you
have only affected Talkers of Love; inftead of
natural
324 An El ay upon COMEDY.
natural Comedians, incomparable Buffoons,
but ſtill Buffoons; and inſtead of ridiculous
Doctors, poor mad Scholars. There is hardly
any Part but what is forc’d, unleſs that of Pana
talon, which is the leaſt taken notice of in the
Play'; and yet the only Thing that does not ex-
.
ceed the Bounds of Probability.
Tragedy was the chief Delight of the an-
cient Common-wealth; and the old Romans,
endow'd only with a rough Virtue, fought 110
other Examples in their Theatres, but ſuch as
might fortify their natural Diſpoſition, and
entertain their Fierce Habits. When the
Sweetneſs of Wit for Converſation, was join'd
to the Force of Soul, for great Matters, then
they began to be pleas'd likewiſe with Come
dy; and thus, ſometimes delighted with great
and noble I leas, and ſometimes diverted with
thoſe that are agreeable.
As ſoon as Rome came to be corrupted, the
Romuns quitted Tragedy, and could not endure
to behold any Image of the ancient Vertue on
the Stage.
From thoſe Days, to the laſt of the Common,
wealth, Comedy was the Recreation of Great
Men, the Divertiſement of polite Perſons, and
the Amuſement of a People either remifs or
ſoft'ned into Effeminacy.
A little before the Civil War, the Spirit of
Tragedy began again to animate the Romans,
by a ſecret Diſpoſition of a Genius, that pre-
par'd 'em for the dreadful Revolutions which
happen'd afterwards. Cejar wrote one ; and
many Perſons of Quality wrote fome likewiſe:
Buc
a
An Eſ ay upon COMEDY. 325
But the Diſorders being calm’d under Auguftus,
and Peace and Tranquility re-eſtabliſhd, Plea-
fure was ſought after.
Then came Comedies into play again ; the
Pantomimes, were Men in Vogue and Credit;
and Tragedy made a fhift to keep up her Re
putation. Under Nero's Reign, Seneca enter-
tain'd fatal Ideas, which made him compoſe
the Tragedies that he had left us : And when
Corruption was at the Height, and Vice gene-
ral and A-la-mede, the Pantomimes deſtroy d
both Tragedy and Comedy. No longer now
had Wit any Part in the Srage-Repreſentations;
and only the Sight did ſeek in Poſtures aní
Motions, that might imprint voluptuous Images
on the Soul of the Spectators.
The modern Italians are ſatisfy'd to enjoy the
ſame Sun, and breathe the ſame Air, and in-
habit the fame Land with the ancient Rom
mans ; but they have left to Hiſtory that ſe-
vere Virtue which the Romans practis'd, and
therefore think they have no need of Tragedy,
to animate them to hard and difficult Things,
which they have no Mind to undertake. As
they love the Softneſs of an ordinary, and the
Delights of a voluptuous Life; ſo they love to
act Plays that may relate to both; and hence
came the Mixture of Comedy with Mimicksy,
which we ſee in the Italian Stage.
All the Actors that play now, are generally
very excellent, except thoſe that play Lovers:
And not to do them an Injury, any more than
ſhew them any Favour, I will ſay, they are.
very good Actors, but have very bad Comea
dies
328 An Ejay upon COMEDY.
dies; and perhaps they can't make good ones,
and (it may be) have reaſon not to make ſuch.
For, once telling Cintifo, That there was
not Veri-fimilitude enough in their Pieces, he
anſwer'd me, That if there were more, good
Comedians, with good Comedies, might go
ftarve.
338333838438:35:38:3833
Upon Engliſh Comedy.
Here is 110 Comedy more conform-
able to that of the Antients, than
the Engliſh, in what reſpects the
Manners. It is not pure and ſincere
Gallantry, full of Adventures and
amorous Diſcourſes, as in Spain and France ;
but the Repreſentation of humane Life in com-
mon, according to the Diverſity of Humours and
ſeveral Characters of Men. 'Tis an Alchimiſt,
who, by the Illuſions of his Art, entertains the
deceitful Hopes of a vain Curioſo: 'Tis a filly
and credulous Perſon, whoſe fooliſh Eaſineſs
is eternally abus'd : 'Tis ſometimes a ridiculous
Politician, grave, ſtarch’d, and compos'd, who
ſhruggs up his Shoulders, and pinks with his
Eyes at every Thing, being moſt myſteriouſly
ſuſpicious, and who fancies he can find Deſigns
hidden in the moſt common Intentions, and
thinks to diſcover Artifice in the moſt innocent
Actions of Life: 'Tis a whimſical Lover, huffing
Bully,
a
a
a
An Eſ ay upon
COMEDY.
329
Bully, a pedantick Scholar; one with natural
Extravagance, and the other with his ridicu-
lous Affectations. Indeed, theſe Cheats, theſe
Fools, this Politician, with the other Chara-
eters, being ingeniouſly_form’d, are carry'd
on too far, according to Frenchmens Opinions,
as thoſe of the French Theatre lye fomewhat
heavy on the Stomach of an Engliſhman. And
the Reaſon hereof is, perhaps, that the Engliſh
think too much, and most commonly the French
think not enough.
In effect, the French content themſelves with
the firſt Images receiv'd from Obje&ts: And by
ſtopping them at the meer Outſides of Things,
an Appearance almoſt always ferves inſtead of
Truth; and what is eaſy, for that which is na-
tural. And here I ſhall ſay, by the By, that
theſe two laſt Qualities are ſometimes very im-
properly confounded together: What is eaſy,
and what is natural, agree fufficiently in their
Oppoſition to what is hard or forcd : But when
the French go about to dive into the Nature of
Things, or the natural Diſpoſition of Perſons,
every Man will confeſs it is not always eaſily
attain'd: There is ſome internal Thing, fome-
thing hidden, which they would diſcover, if
they would ſound Matters a little deeper. It
is as difficult for us to enter in, as for the En.
gliſh to get out : They never leave off thinking,
till they become Maſters of the Thing on which
they think; and when they comprehend their
Subject, they dig on ftill where nothing is to
be found, and ſurpaſs the juft and natural Idea,
which they ought to have, by an over-profound
Enquiry.
To
328
An Eſ ay upon
COMEDY.
To ſpeak the Truth, I never met with Peo-
ple of better Underſtanding than the French,
who apply themſelves to confider; and the
Engliſh, that can break oft from their too great
Meditations. But to return to the Freedom of
Diſcourſe, and a certain Liberty of Mind, which
we ought always, if poſſible, to enjoy. Men of
the beji Senſe in the World, are the French that
think, and the Engliſh that speak. I am infen-
fibly caſting myſelf into too general Conſidera-
tions, and therefore ſhall reſume my Subject
concerning Comedy again, and paſs to a confi-
derable Difference betwixt the Engliſh and
French Comedy: And that is, that the French
being tyed up in the Regularity of the Antients,
refer all to one principal Action, without any
other Diverſity than that of the Means whereby
they think to bring it about.
: We muſt agree in this. Point, that one prin.
cipal Adventure ought to be the only Scope and
End of the Repreſentation in a Tragedy, where
in the Mind would ſuffer fome Violence in
ſuch Diverſions as would turn its Thoughts de
fide.
The Misfortunes of a miſerable King, the fa-
tal and tragical Death of a great Hero, hold the
Soul ſtrongly chain'd up to theſe important Ob-
jects; and inftead of all the Varicty in the
World, it is fatisfy'd with knowing the diffe-
rent Means that lead to this principal Action.
But Comedy being made to divert us, and not
wholly to bufy us, provided that Likelyhood
be kept, and Extravagance avoided, in the O-
pinion of the Engliſhthe Varieties are plea-
fing
An Eſ ay upon CÒMEDY.
329
а.
fing Surprizes and agreeable Alterations:
Whereas the continual Expectation of the ſame
Thing, wherein nothing of Importance can be
conceiv'd, muſt neceſſarily create a Faintneſs
in our Attention.
So that, inſtead of repreſenting an eminent
and ſignal Impoſture, carry'd on by Means that
refer all to the fame End, they repreſent a no-
table Rogue, with divers Cheats, every one of
which produces its partibular Effect according
to its proper Conftitution. As they almoſt al.
ways renounce Unity of Action to repreſent
a principal Perfon, who diverts 'em with dif-
ferent Actions; ſo they likewiſe forſake this
principal Perſon; to let you take a Proſpect di:
vers Ways of what happens in publick Places to
pasy Perfons.
Ben Johnſon has taken this
Courſe in his Bartholomer-Fair. The ſame
Thing we ſee in Epſom-Wells. And in both
Comedies are comically repreſented the ridicu-
lous Palſages in both thoſe Places.
There are other Pieces, where (as it were) a
couple of Subjects do ſo ingeniouſly mingle one
with the other, as that the Mind of the Audio
ence, (which might be wounded by an over-ſen-
fible Change) finds nothing but Pleaſure in
that diverting Variety which they produce. We
muſt confeſs, that this is not according to Law
and Rule: But the Engliſh are perfuaded, that:
the Liberties which are allowed for the greater
Pleaſure, ought to be prefer'd before ſuch exact
Rules as every barren and fleepy Author can
make an Art of plaguing others withal.
Το
332 An Eſay upon COMEDY.
To avoid Confufion, we ought to obſerve
Rules and Directions, and to follow true Judg.
ment and good Senfe, which may allay the
Heat of an inflamed Imagination: Yet we are
to undreſs thoſe Rules of all-tormenting Con.
ftraint, and to baniſh a too ſcrupulous Reaſon,
which, through too cloſe embracing of Juſt
neſs, leaves nothing free and natural.
Thoſe whom Nature has ſent into the World
without a Genius, being never able to give it
to themſelves, allow all to Art which they can
acquire: And that their ſervile Obfervation
of Regularity may not go without its due Me-
rit, they never forget to decry a Work which
is not perfect. As for thoſe that love the ridi-
culous, that are pleaſed with the Humours of
Fops, that are affected with true Characters,
they will find the Engliſh Comedies excellent,
and right for their Taſte and Purpoſe, as far,
and (it may be) more than any they have ever
ſeen.
The French Moliere, into whom the Antients
inſpir'd the true Spirit of Comedy, equals their
Ben Johnfon, in admirably repreſenting the ſe-
veral Humours and different Manners of Men,
both of them in their reſpective Paintings,
keeping a juft Regard to the Genius of their Na-
rion. I believe they have carry'd that Point as
far as the Antients ever did : But it is not to be
deny'd, but that they have had greater Regard
to Characters than to the main of their Subject,
the Deduction of which might have been more.
methodically link'd together, and the unfold.
ing the Intrigues more natural.
An
333
An Anacreontick.
On a Lap-Dog.
ICE, pretty Nice, thou
Can'ít not; but, ah! cou'd'ſt thou
N
(know
How thou doſt my Envy raiſe,
And (becauſe ſhe loves thee) Praiſe;
Thou wou'd'ft not change for what is New,
For Mexico, or for Peru.
In that Lap, ah! Nice, reſt,
And think! Nice, think thou'rt bleft;
But if thou wilt thy Station change,
And in another Precinct range,
In Tap'ſtry, thou, or Silks, Thalt lie,
Under the richeſt Canopy ;
On Citron, Cedar, or on Gold,
Or what thou doft moſt coſtly hold.
If thou wilt hut in Exchange thy Place reſign,
Let but thy Privilege be mine,
This Thall, and more than this, be thine.
And, if I gain the Hope, I crave,
Nice, I dow that thou ſhalt have
An Epitaph upon thy Grave.
A
324 An EJ ay upon COMEDY.
natural Comedians, incomparable Buffoons,
but ſtill Buffoons; and inſtead of ridiculous
Doctors, poor mad Scholars. There is hardly
any Part but what is forc’d, unleſs that of Pana
talon, which is the leaſt taken notice of in the
Play; and yet the only. Thing that does not ex-
ceed the Bounds of Probability.
Tragedy was the chief Delight of the an-
cient Common-wealth; and the old Romans,
endowd only with a rough Virtue, fought 110
other Examples in their Theatres, but ſuch as
might fortify their natural Diſpoſition, and
entertain their Fierce Habits. When the
Sweetneſs of Wit for Converſation, was join'd
to the Force of Soul, for great Matters, then
they began to be pleas'd likewiſe with Come-
dy; and thus, ſometimes delighted with great
and noble Ideas, and ſometimes diverted with
thoſe that are agreeable.
As ſoon as Rompe came to be corrupted, the
Romuns quitted Tragedy, and could not endure
to behold any Image of the ancient Vertue on
the Stage.
From thoſe Days, to the laſt of the Commons
wealth, Comedy was the Recreation of Great
Men, the Divertiſement of polite Perſons, and
the Amuſement of a People either remifs or
ſoft'ned into. Effeminacy.
A little before the Civil War, the Spirit of
Tragedy began again to animate the Romans,
by a ſecret Diſpoſition of a Genius, that pre-
pard 'em for the dreadful Revolutions which
happend afterwards. Ceſar wrote one ; and
many Perſons of Quality wrote fome likewiſe :
Buc
An Eſ ay upon COMEDY. 325
But the Diſorders being calm’d under Auguftus,
and Peace and Tranquility re-eſtablish'd, Plea-
fure was fought after.
Then came Comedies into play again ; the
Pantomimes were Men in Vogue and Credit;
and Tragedy made a thift to keep up her Rea
putation. Under Nero's Reign, Seneca enter-
tain'd fatal Ideas, which made him compoſe
the Tragedies that he had left us : And when
Corruption was at the Height, and Vice gene-
ral and A-la-mode, the Pantomimes deſtroy d
both Tragedy and Comedy. No longer now
had Wit any Part in the Stage-Repreſentations;
and only the Sight did ſeek in Poſtures aní
Motions, that might imprint voluptuous Images
on the Soul of the Spectators.
The modern Italians are ſatisfy'd to enjoy the
ſame Sun, and breathe the ſame Air, and in-
habit th fame Land with the ancient Rom
mans; but they have left to Hiſtory that ſe-
vere Virtue which the Romans practis'd, and
therefore think they have no need of Tragedy,
to animate them to hard and difficult Things,
which they have no Mind to undertake. As
they love the Softneſs of an ordinary, and the
Delights of a voluptuous Life; ſo they love to..
acł Plays that may relate to both; and hence
came the Mixture of Comedy with Mimickey,
which we ſee in the Italian Stage.
All the Actors that play now, are generally
very excellent, except thoſe that play Lovers :
And not to do them an Injury, any more than
ſhew them any Favour, I will ſay, they are.
very good Actors, but have very bad Come-
dies
328 An Ej Ejay
ay upon COMEDY.
dies; and perhaps they can't make good ones,
and (it may be) have reaſon not to make ſuch.
For, once telling Cintiſo, That there was
not Veri-fimilitude enough in their Pieces, he
anſwer'd me, That if there were more, good
Comedians, with good Comedies, might go
ftarve.
38353838:38:35383333
Upon Engliſh Comedy.
Here is no Comedy more conform-
able to that of the Antients, than
the Engliſh, in what reſpects the
Manners. It is not pure and ſincere
KU**
Gallantry, full of Adventures and
amorous Diſcourſes, as in Spain and France ;
but the Repreſentation of humane Life in com-
mon, according to the Diverſity of Humours and
ſeveral Characters of Men. 'Tis an Alchimiſt,
who, by the Illuſions of his Art, entertains the
deceitful Hopes of a vain Curioſo: 'Tis a filly
and credulous Perſon, whoſe fooliſh Eaſineſs
is eternally abus'd : 'Tis ſometimes a ridiculous
Politician, grave, ſtarch'd, and compos'd, who
ſhruggs up his Shoulders, and pinks with his
Eyes at every Thing, being moſt myſteriouſly
ſuſpicious, and who fancies he can find Deſigns
hidden in the moſt common Intentions, and
thinks to diſcover Artifice in the moſt innocent
Actions of Life: 'Tis a whimſical Lover, huffing
Bully,
An Es ay upon COMEDY.
Eſ
329
Bully, a pedantick Scholar; one with natural
Extravagance, and the other with his ridicu-
lous Affectations. Indeed, theſe Cheats, theſe
Fools, this Politician, with the other Chara-
eters, being ingeniouſly_form'd, are carry'd
on too far, according to Frenchmens Opinions,
as thoſe of the French Theatre lye ſomewhat
heavy on the Stomach of an Engliſhman. And
the Reaſon hereof is, perhaps, that the Engliſh
think too much, and most commonly the French
think not enough.
In effect, the French content themſelves with
the firſt Images receiv'd from Objects: And by
ſtopping them at the meer Outſides of Things,
an Appearance almoſt always ferves inſtead of
Truth; and what is eaſy, for that which is 112-
tural. And here I ſhall ſay, by the By, that
theſe two laſt Qualities are ſometimes very im.
properly confounded together : What is eaſy,
and what is natural, agree ſufficiently in their
Oppoſition to what is hard or forc'd : But when
the French
go
about to dive into the Nature of
Things, or the natural Diſpoſition of Perſons,
every Man will confeſs it is not always eaſily
attain'd: There is ſome internal Thing, ſome-
thing hidden, which they would diſcover, if
they would ſound Matters a little deeper. It
is as difficult for us to enter in, as for the En.
gliſh to get out: They never leave off thinking,
till they become Maſters of the Thing on which
they think; and when they comprehend their
Subject, they dig on ftill where nothing is to
be found, and furpaſs the juft and natural Idea,
which they ought to have, by an over-profound
Enquiry.
To
.
332
An Eſ ay upon COMEDY.
To avoid Confufon, we ought to obſerve
Rules and Directions, and to follow true Judg.
ment and good Senſe, which may allay the
Heat of an inflamed. Imagination: Yet we are
to undreſs thoſe Rules of all-tormenting Con.
ftraint, and to baniſh a too ſcrupulous Reaſon,
which, through too cloſe embracing of Juft-
neſs, leaves nothing free and natural.
Thoſe whom Nature has ſent into the World
without a Genius, being never able to give it
to themſelves, allow all to Art which they can
acquire: And that their ſervile Obfervation
of Regularity may not go without its due Me-
rit, they never forget to decry a Work which
is not perfect. As for thoſe that love the ridi-
culous, that are pleaſed with the Humours of
Fops, that are affected with true Characters,
they will find the Engliſh Comedies excellent;
and right for their Taſte and Purpoſe, as far,
and (it may be) more than any they have ever
ſeen.
· The French Moliere, into whom the Antients
inſpir'd the true Spirit of Comedy, equals their
Ben Johnſon, in admirably repreſenting the ſea
veral Humours and different Manners of Men,
both of them in their reſpective Paintings,
keeping a juft Regard to the Genius of their Na.
rion. I believe they have carry'd that Point as
far as the Antients ever did : But it is not to be
deny'd, but that they have had greater Regard
to Characters than to the main of their Subject,
the Deduction of which might have been more.
methodically link'd together, and the unfold-
ing the Intrigues more natural.
An
333
An Anacreontick. On a Lap-Dog.
ICE, pretty Nice, thou
Can'ſt not; but, ah! cou'd'ft thou
N
(know
How thou doft my Envy raiſe,
And (becauſe ſhe loves thee) Praiſe;
Thou wou'd'ft not change for what is New,
For Mexico, or for Perú.
In that Lap, ah! Nice, reſt,
And think ! Nice, think thou'rt bleft;
But if thou wilt thy Station change,
And in another Precinct range,
In Tap'ſtry, thou, or Silks, Thalt lie,
Under the richeſt Canopy ;
On Citron, Cedar, or on Gold,
Or what thou doft moſt coſtly hold.
If thou wilt but in Exchange thy Place reſign,
Let but thy Privilege be mine,
This fhall, and more than this, be thine.
And, if I gain the Hope, I crave,
Nice, I vow that thou ſhalt have
An Épitaph upon thy Grave.
A
332
9
Home
A Letter from an old fornicating Vint-
ner behind the Royal Exchange, to
bis Wine-Merchant in the Country,
giving bim an account of bis intend-
ed Marriage. Written by Mr. Brown.
+
Honour'd Sir,
Was tranſported with Joy this Morn-
ing, when our truſty and well-be-
I
lov'd Counſellors, M. G. and A. G.
told
me,
that you were (if you'll
allow a Vintner to plunder a Phrafe
а
out of the Gazette) re-eſtablith'd in your
Health. When this News arrives to Italy and
Afia, (and, upon my Word, I thall not be want-
ing to tranſmit it to our Correſpondents a-
broad) the Pope, who, I am told, reſembles
you in Phiz, muſt certainly fire all the Guns
at St. Angelo, or elſe the Devil take his Holi-
neſs, ſay I ; and the good People of Aleppo
and Smyrna will keep their Bells a ringing for
a Fort
A Vintner's Letter.
333
a Fortnight' together. Now I know ſo great a
Critick as you are, and a Traveller into the
Bargain, will tell me that I have committed
a moft unpardonable Blunder, in ſaying, there
are Bells in Turkey : No matter for that, my
Compliment is full as good as if they had Bells;
for admitting my Hypotheſis, that they had
them, I am ſure they cou'd not employ them
upon a better Occaſion.
But, Mr. Godyere, tho’Italy and Natolia
have an Interest in your Health, your humble
Servant 0. S. has a much greater in it. You
are a Perſon of confummate Experience in eve.
ry Thing, but eſpecially Woman: I believe
for my Part, you are inferior to no Body but
Solomon, of Latitudinarian Memory; and if
ever I wanted your Advice upon any Occaſion
'tis now.
You muſt underſtand, that being refolv'd to
fow my wild Oats, and marry, I have had the
Devil-and-all of Matches lately offer'd me.
Some admire my Perſon; ſome are deeply ſmit-
ten with my Wit, as contemptibly as you judge
of it: In ſhort, I have had ſeventeen Maids,
and two and fifty Widows recommended to me.
L.won't trouble you with the Detail of every
particular Woinan, but will only give you
fome ſhort Account of the moſt principal
Ones, and am reſolv'd to be wholly determind
in this Affair by you.
Imprimis, I have a Widow of Three and
Fifty, that has a wonderful Deſire to try the
Sweetneſs of my Conftitution, thel is as ugly
a's Mother Damnable, chews and takes Tolacco,
drinks
C;
!
336
Å Vintner's Letter.
drinks her two Quarts of Anniſeed-Water eve.
ry Morning, has two blear-ey'd Daughters, and
a Son that is a City-Attorney. Her Fortune
is 2500 l. Sterling ; but ſhe is a rigid Calviniſt,
and, I am afraid, diſtributes her Favours to a
crop-ear'd Levite at the Meeting in Mori-
fields.
Item, A Widow in Colemanſtreet. She is of
the true orthodox eſtabliſh'd Church; but her
Tongue ! Her moſt confounded Tongue ! Like.
the Devil in St. Peter, or St. Paul, in the Epi-
Atles, or ſome where in the New Teſtament (for
I won't be poſitive where it is eternally ſeeks
whom to devour. Her topping Qualification
is 1800 l. has no Sons or Daughters, but is ſo
damnably Talkative, that I am afraid ſhe'll
talk all my Cuſtomers out of the Houſe.
Item, I have another Widow in Tokenhouſe-
yard, that has neither Eyes, nor Smell : She's
turn'd of Seventy four; tho you diſcharge a
Demi-culverin under her Ear, yet ſhe can't
hear the Noiſe: Yet ſhe has her fixth Senſe
very perfect. Four ſucceeding Huſbands have
been bury'd in her all-devouring Quagmire;
and I am afraid, tho’I had two Tuns of S-
ſhe would not leave me a Thimble full at a
Month's End. She has about 4000l. in the
Bank of England and the Old Eaſt-India Com-
pany. So much for my Widows, and now I'll
come to my
Maids.
The firſt of that Number is a Stock-jobber's
Daughter in Fenchurchftreet. She has been
taught all her Motions at the Dancing-School,
goes four Times a Week to the Play-houſe,
knows
A Vintner's Letter 337
liows half the Parſons about the Town, hen
Complexion is Daniſh, and that makes me dir-
guſt her, for I abominate Carrots in the Dog-
days; beſides, Cuckoldom is a Thing I can
hardly reconcile my ſelf to, although half of
us Citizens, ſince the Conqueſts have been in
that Predicament ; but I am for breaking
that Faſhion.
In the next Place, for I won't trouble you
with the whole Lift, a Maiden has a Deſire for
me, who puts me in a Rapture as often as I
ſee her.
1
a
She's as black as a Sloe,
And has ſomething to how,
So charming below,
That my Fancy does glow,
And does crow,
As ofr as I think of this heavenly Frow.
But yet when I think
This Damſel wants Chink,
And that ſhe will Drink;
My Pallion does ſink,
- does thrink,
And all my Thoughts rove upon Mammon
My M-
fand Chink.
So much by way of Verſe, and now I con-
jure you, by our paſt Friendſhip, to adviſe me
how to behave my ſelf in this important Exi.
gence. You are my Oracle, and I ſhall impa-
tiently expect your Anſwer; that is to ſay,
Whether I muſt take a Widow or a Maid? If
you are ſo wery of the World, which ho-
Vol. V.
Р
nours
338. A Vintner's Letter.
nours and eſteems you, that you won't live for
your own Sake, or your Ladies, yet,
By Bacchus I deſire you,
(That more than once has fir'd you,
and often has infpir'd you,)
To live ten Years at leaft longer, for the
Sake, and at the humble Petition of,
Sir, your moft oblig'd,
and if that won't do,
your moft obedient Servant,
O. S.
339
NOUNCAK ODOSIE
og vesuvia ouro
A Farewell to Poor ENGLAND:
By Mr. Tho. Brown. In the Year
1
1704
FACE
Arewel falſe Friends, farewel ill Wine,
Farewel all Women with Deſign,
Farewel all pocky cheating Punks,
Farewel Lotteries, farewel Banks:
And, England, 1, in leaving thee,
May fay, Farewel to Poverty.
Adieu: Where'er I go, I am ſure to find
Nothing so ill as that I leave bebind.
Farewel Nation without Senſe,
Farewel Exchequer without Pence;
Farewel Army with bare Feet,
Farewel Navy without Meat ;
Farewel writing fighting Beauxs,
And farewel uſeleſs Plenipoesa
Alicu, &c.
Farewel you Good Old Caufe Promoters,
Farewel brib'd Artillery Voters;
Farewel to all Attainting Bills,
And Record which for Witneſs kills;
Farewel to Laymens Villainy,
And farewel Churchmens Perjury.
Adieu, &c.
Inſtead
332
An Eſay upon COMEDY.
To avoid Confufion, we ought to obſerve
Rules and Directions, and to follow true Judg.
ment and good Senſe, which may allay the
Heat of an inflamed. Imagination: Yet we are
to undreſs thoſe Rules of all-tormenting Con.
ſtraint, and to baniſh a too ſcrupulous Reaſon,
which, through too cloſe embracing of Juft-
neſs, leaves nothing free and natural.
Thoſe whom Nature has ſent into the World
without a Genius, being never able to give it
to themſelves, allow all to Art which they can
acquire: And that their ſervile Obſervation
of Regularity may not go without its due Me-
rit, they never forget to decry a Work which
is not perfect. As for thoſe that love the ridi-
culous, that are pleaſed with the Humours of
Fops, that are affected with true Characters,
they will find the Engliſh Comedies excellent,
and right for their Taſte and Purpoſe, as far,
and it may be) more than any they have ever
ſeen.
· The French Moliere, into whom the Antients
inſpir'd the true Spirit of Comedy, equals their
Ben Fohnfon, in admirably repreſenting the ſea
veral Humours and different Manners of Men,
both of them in their reſpective Paintings,
keeping a juft Regard to the Genius of their Na-
tion. I believe they have carry'd that Point as
far as the Antients ever did: But it is not to be
deny'd, but that they have had greater Regard
to Characters than to the main of their Subject,
the Deduction of which might have been more.
methodically link'd together, and the unfold.
ing the Intrigues more natural.
An
1
333
(CCOO)
An Anacreontick.
On a Lap-Dog.
ICE, pretty Nice, thou
Can'ſt not; but, ah! cou’d'ſt thou
N
(know
How thou doſt my Envy raiſe,
And (becauſe ſhe loves thee) Praiſe ;
Thou wou'd'It not change for what is New,
For Mexico, or for Peru.
In that Lap, ah! Nice, reſt,
And think! Nice, think thou’rt bleft;
But if thou wilt thy Station change,
And in another Precinct range,
In Tap'ſtry, thou, or Silks, Thalt lie,
Under the richeſt Canopy ;
On Citron, Cedar, or on Gold,
Or what thou doft moſt coſtly hold.
If thou wilt but in Exchange thy Place reſign,
Let but thy Privilege be mine,
This ihall, and more than this, be thine.
And, if I gain the Hope, I crave,
Nice I vow that thou ſhalt have
An Epitaph upon thy Grave.
A
1
332
Ilutu LAN
A Letter from an old fornicating Vint-
ner behind the Royal Exchange, to
bis Wine-Mercbant in the Country,
giving bim an account of bis intend-
ed Marriage. Written by Mr. Brown.
Honour'd Sir,
Was tranſported with Joy this Morn-
ing, when our truſty and well-be-
I 1
lov'd Counſellors, M. G. and A. G.
told me, that you were (if you'll
allow a Vintner to plunder a Phraſe
out of the Gazette) re-eſtablith'd in your
Health. When this News arrives to Italy and
Afia, (and, upon my Word, I Thall not be want-
ing to tranſmit it to our Correſpondents a-
broad) the Pope, who, I am told, reſembles
you in Phiz, muſt certainly fire all the Guns
at St. Angeló, or elſe the Devil take his Holi-
neſs, ſay I ; and the good People of Aleppo
and Smyrna will keep their Bells a ringing for
a Fort
UNIVERSITY OF MICHIGAN
3 9015 08236 5449
336 A Vintner's Letter.
drinks her two Quarts of Anniſeed-Water eve-
ry Morning, has two blear-ey'd Daughters, and
à Son that is a City-Attorney. Her Fortune
is 2500 l. Sterling; but ſhe is a rigid Calviniſt,
and, I am afraid, diſtributes her Favours to a
crop-ear'd Levite at the Meeting in Mort-
fields.
Item, A Widow in Colemanſtreet. She is of
the true orthodox eſtabliſh'd Church, but her
Tongue ! Her moſt confounded Tongue ! Like
the Devil in St. Peter, or St. Paul, in the Epi-
fles, or ſome where in the New Teſtament (for
I won't be poſitive where it is) eternally ſeeks
whom to devour. Her topping Qualification
is 1800 l. has no Sons or Daughters, but is ſo
damnably Talkative, that I am afraid ſhe'll
talk all my Cuſtomers out of the Houſe.
Item, I have another Widow in Tokenhouſe-
gard, that has neither Eyes, nor Smell: She's
turn'd of Seventy four; tho' you diſcharge a
Demi-culverin under her Ear, yet ſhe can't
hear the Noiſe: Yet The has her ſixth Senſe
very perfect. Four ſucceeding Huſbands have
been bury'd in her all-devouring Quagmire;
and I am afraid, tho' I had two Tuns of S.
She would not leave me a Thimble full at a
Month's End. She has about 4000l. in the
Bank of England and the Old Eaſt-India Com-
pany. So much for my Widows, and now I'll
come to my
Maids.
The firſt of that Number is a Stock-jobber's
Daughter in Fenchurchſtreet. _She has been
taught all her Motions at the Dancing-School,
goes four Times a Week to the Play-houſe,
knows
A Vintner's Letters 337
kurows half the Parſons about the Town, her
Complexion is Daniſh, and that makes me disa
guſt her, for I abominate Carrots in the Dog-
days; beſides, Cuckoldom is a Thing I can
hardly, reconcile my ſelf to, although half of
us Citizens, ſince the Congueft, have been in
that Predicament ; but am for breaking
that Faſhion.
In the next Place, for I won't trouble you
with the whole Lift, a Maiden has a Deſire for
me, who puts me in a Rapture as often as I
ſee her.
She's as black as a Sloe,
And has ſomething to Thow,
So charming below,
That my Fancy does glow,
And does crow,
As oft as I think of this heavenly Frow.
But yet when I think
This Damſel wants Chink,
And that ſhe will Drink;
My Pallion does fink,
- does thrink,
And all my Thoughts rove upon Mammon
My M.
Cand Chink.
So much by way of Verſe, and now I con-
jure you, by our paſt Friendſhip, to adviſe me
how to behave my ſelf in this important Exi.
gence. You are my Oracle, and I ſhall impa-
tiently expect your Anſwer; that is to ſay,
Whether I muſt take a Widow or a Maid? If
you are ſo wery of the World, which ho-
Vol. V.
Р
jours
338
A Vintner's Letter.
nours and eſteems you, that you won't live for
your own Sake, or your Ladies, yet,
By Bacchus I deſire you, ,
(That more than once has fir'd you,
And often has infpir'd you;)
1
1
To live ten Years at leaft longer, for the
Sake, and at the humble Petition of,
Sir, your moft oblig'd,
and if that won't do,
your moft obedient Servant,
O. S.
!
339
UNUNGGUGU.Duben SG Gewerbeio MUDroger
A Farewell to Poor ENGLAND.
By Mr. Tho. Brown. In the Tear 1704
Arewel falſe Friends, farewel ill Wine,
F
Farewel all Women with Deſign,
Farewel all pocky cheating Punks,
Farewel Lotteries, farewel Banks:
And, England, 1, in leaving thee,
May fay, Farewel to Poverty.
Adieu: Where'er I go, I am ſure to find
Nothing so ill as that I leave behind.
Farewel Nation without Senſe,
Farewel Exchequer without Pence;
Farewel Army with bare Feet,
Farewel Navy without Meat ;
Farewel writing fighting Beauxs,
And farewel uſeleſs Plenipoes.
Adicu, &c.
Farewel you Good Old Caufe Promoters,
Farewel brib'd Artillery Voters ;
Farewel to all Attainting Bills,
And Record which for Witneſs kills;
Farewel to Laymens Villainy,
And farewel Churchmens Perjury.
Adieu, &c.
Instead
340 The Poet's Farewel, &c.
11.
Inſtead of One King, Farewel Nine,
And all who Aſſociating ſign.
Farewel you gulld unthinking Fops,
Poor broken Merchants, empty Shops ;
Farewel pack'd Judges, culld for Blood,
With eight Years War for England's Good.
Adieu, &c.
Farewel you Judges, who diſpenſe
With perjurd Cut-throat Evidence ;
Farewel thou haughty little Mouſe
With thoſe that chooſe thee for the Houſe ;
Farewel Long and ſpightful Looks,
With Reverend Oates, and all his Books.
Alieu, &c.
Adieu once more : Britannia, fare thee well;
And if all this won't mend thee,
May the D- - triumph in your Spoil,
May Beggary run throughout your. Ifle,
And no one think it worth his while
To take up to defend thee.
FINI S.
27 6 AA
5482
BR1
01/09 02-013-01 Okin
Éti Group
4,
UNIVERSITY OF MICHIGAN
3 9015 08236 5449