Who visits with a gun, presents you birds,
Then gives a fmacking buss, and cries,-No words!
Or with his hounds comes hallooing from the ftable,
Makes love with nods, and knees beneath a table;
Whofe laughs are hearty, though his jefts are coarfe,
And loves you best of all things-but his horse,
In fome fair evening, on your elbow laid,
You dream of Triumphs in the rural shade;
In penfive thought recall the fancy'd scene,
See Coronations rife on every green;
Before you pass th' imaginary fights
Of Lords, and Earls, and Dukes, and garter'd Knights,
While the spread fan o'erfhades your closing eyes;
Then give one flirt, and all the vision flies.
Thus vanish fceptres, coronets, and balls,
And leave you in lone woods, or empty walls!
So when your flave, at fome dear idle time,
(Not plague'd with head-achs, or the want of rhyme)
Stands in the streets, abstracted from the crew,
And while he seems to ftudy, thinks of you.
Just when his fancy points your sprightly eyes,
Or fees the blush of foft Parthenia rise,
Gay pats my fhoulder, and you vanish quite,
Streets, Chairs, and Coxcombs, rush upon my sight;
Vex'd to be still in town, I knit my brow,
Look four, and hum a Tune, as you may now.
HE Baffet-Table spread, the Tallier come; Why stays Smilinda in the Dressing-room? Rife, penfive Nymph; the Tallier waits for you.
Ah, Madam, fince my Sharper is untrue,
I joyless make my once ador'd Alpheu.
I faw him ftand behind Ombrelia's Chair,
And whisper with that soft, deluding air,
And those feign'd fighs which cheat the listening
Fair.
Is this the cause of your romantic strains ?
A mightier grief my heavy heart fuftains.
As You by Love, fo I by Fortune crofs'd;
One, one bad Deal, Three Septlevas have loft.
Is that the grief, which you compare with mine ?
With ease, the smiles of Fortune I resign:
Would all my gold in one bad Deal were gone;
Were lovely Sharper mine, and mine alone.
A lover loft, is but a common care;
And prudent Nymphs against that change prepare:
The Knave of Clubs thrice loft: Oh! who could guess
This fatal stroke, this unforeseen Distress?
She all the cares of Love and Play does know :
Dear Betty shall th' important point decide;
Betty, who oft the pain of each has try'd;
Impartial, fhe fhall fay who fuffers moft,
By Cards, Ill-Ufage, or by Lovers lost.
Tell, tell your griefs; attentive will I stay, Though time is precious, and I want some Tea.
Behold this Equipage, by Mathers wrought,
With Fifty Guineas (a great Pen'worth) bought.
See, on the Tooth-pick, Mars and Cupid strive;
And both the struggling figures seem alive.
Upon the bottom shines the Queen's bright Face;
A Myrtle Foliage round the Thimble-cafe;
Jove, Jove himself does on the Sciffars shine;
The Metal, and the Workmanship, divine!
This Snuff-box,-once the pledge of Sharper's love, When rival beauties for the Present strove;
At Corticelli's he the Raffle won;
Then first his Paffion was in public shown :
Hazardia blush'd, and turn'd her head aside,
A Rival's envy (all in vain) to hide.
This Snuff-box,—on the Hinge see Brilliants shine :
This Snuff-box will I ftake; the Prize is mine.
Alas! far leffer loffes than I bear,
Have made a Soldier figh, a Lover fwear.
And oh what makes the disappointment hard,
'Twas my own Lord that drew the fatal Card.
In Complaifance, I took the Queen he gave;
Though my own fecret with was for the Knave.
The Knave won Sonica, which I had chose;
And the next Pull, my Septleva I lose.
SMILINDA.
But ah! what aggravates the killing smart,
The cruel thought, that ftabs me to the heart;
This curs'd Ombrelia, this undoing Fair,
By whofe vile arts this heavy grief I bear ;
She, at whofe name I fhed these spiteful tears,
She owes to me the very charms she wears.
An awkward Thing, when first she came to Town;
Her Shape unfashion'd, and her Face unknown:
She was my friend; I taught her first to spread
Upon her fallow cheeks enlivening red:
I introduc'd her to the Park and Plays;
And by my intereft, Cozens made her Stays.
Ungrateful wretch, with mimic airs grown pert,
She dares to steal my Favourite Lover's heart.
ÇARDELIA.
Wretch that I was, how often have I swore,
When Winnall tally'd, I would punt no more!
I know the Bite, yet to my Ruin run;
And fee the Folly, which I cannot shun.
How many Maids have Sharper's vows deceiv'd'! How many curs'd the moment they believ'd! Yet his known Falfehoods could no Warning prove: Ah! what is Warning to a Maid in Love?
But of what marble must that breaft be form'd, 75 To gaze on Baffet, and remain unwarm'd?
When Kings, Queens, Knaves, are fet in decent rank;
Expos'd in glorious heaps the tempting Bank,
Guineas, Half-guineas, all the fhining train ;
The Winner's pleasure, and the Lofer's pain:
In bright Confusion open Rouleaus lie,
They strike the Soul, and glitter in the Eye.
Fir'd by the fight, all reason I disdain;
My Paffions rife, and will not bear the rein,
Look upon Baffet, you who reafon boast;
And fee if reafon must not there be loft.
What more than marble must that heart compofe,
Can hearken coldly to my Sharper's Vows?
Then, when he trembles! when his Blushes rife!
When awful Love seems melting in his Eyes!
With eager beats his Mechlin Cravat moyes:
He loves,-I whisper to myself, he loves!
Such unfeign'd Paffion in his looks appears,
I lose my Memory of my former Fears;
My panting heart confeffes all his charms,
I yield at once, and fink into his arms.
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