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O! But let exclamation cease,
Her prefence banish'd all his peace.

So with decorum all things carry'd;

Mifs frown'd, and blufh'd, and then was-married. 20
Need we expofe to vulgar fight,

The raptures of the bridal night?
Need we intrude on hallow'd ground,
Or draw the curtains clos'd around?
Let it fuffice, that each had charms;
He clafp'd a Goddess in his arms;
And, though she felt his ufage rough,
Yet in a man 'twas well enough.

The honey-moon like lightning flew,
The fecond brought in transports too.
A third, a fourth, were not amifs,

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The fifth was friendship mixed with blifs:
But, when a twelvemonth pafs' away,

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'Tis true fhe dreffed with modern grace, Half naked at a ball or race;

But when at home, at board or bed,

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Five greafy night-caps wrap'd her head.

Could fo much beauty condefcend

To be a dull domeftic friend?

Could any curtain lectures bring
To decency fo fine a thing?

In short, by night, 'twas fits or fretting;
By day, 'twas gadding or coquetting.
Fond to be feen, fhe kept a bevy,

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Or thins her lip, or points her nose :

Whenever rage or envy rife,

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How wide her mouth, how wild her eyes!

He knows not how, but fo it is,

Her face is grown a knowing phyz;
And, tho' her fops are wondrous civil,
He thinks her ugly as the devil.

Now, to perplex the ravell'd nooze,
As each a different way pursues,
While fullen or loquacious ftrife

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Promis'd to hold them on for life,

That dire disease, whofe ruthless power,

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Withers the beauty's tranfient flower:
Lo! the small-pox, whofe horrid glare
Levell'd its terrors at the fair ;
And, rifling ev'ry youthful grace,

Left but the remnant of a face.

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The glass, grown hateful to her fight,
Reflected now a perfect fright;
Each former art fhe vainly tries
To bring back luftre to her eyes.
In vain she tries her paste and creams,
To fmooth her skin, or hide its feams
Her country beaux and city coufins,
Lovers no more, flew off by dozens :
The squire himself was feen to yield,
And ev❜n the captain quit the field.

;

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Poor Madam now condemn'd to hack

The reft of life with anxious Jack,

Perceiving others fairly flown,
Attempted pleafing him alone.
Jack foon was dazzled to behold
Her prefent face furpass the old ;
With modesty her cheeks are dy'd,
Humility difplaces pride;
For taudry finery is feen
A perfon ever neatly clean :
No more prefuming on her sway
She learns good nature ev'ry day ;
Serenely gay, and ftrict in duty,
Jack finds his wife a perfect beauty.

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A

NEW SIMILE:

IN THE

MANNER OF SWIFT.

LONG

ONG had I fought in vain to find
A likeness for the fcribbling kind;
The modern fcribbling kind, who write,
In wit, and fenfe, and nature's fpite:
Till reading, I forget what day on,
A chapter out of Took's Pantheon,
I think I met with fomething there,
To fuit my purpose to a hair;
But let us not proceed too furious,
First pleafe to turn to God Mercurius ;
You'll find him pictur'd at full length
In book the fecond, page the tenth :
The ftrefs of all my proofs on him I lay,
And now proceed we to our Simile.

Imprimis, pray obferve his hat,

Wings upon either fide-mark that.

Well! what is it from thence we gather?
Why these denote a brain of feather.
A brain of feather! very right,
With wit that's flighty, learning light;
Such as to modern bard's decreed.
A just comparison,

proceed.

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In the next place, his feet perufe,

Wings grow again from both his fhoes;
Defign'd no doubt, their part to bear,

And waft his godfhip through the air;
And here my fimile unites,

For in a modern poet's flights,

I'm fure it may be justly faid,

His feet are useful as his head.

;

Laftly, vouchsafe t'obferve his hand,
Fill'd with a fnake-incircled wand
By claffic authors, term'd caduceus,
And highly fam'd for feveral ufes.
To wit-most wondroufly endu'd,
No poppy water half fo good;

For let folks only get a touch,
Its foporific virtue's fuch,

Tho' ne'er fo much awake before,
That quickly they begin to fnore.

Add too, what certain writers tell,

With this he drives mens fouls to hell.

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Now to apply, begin we then
His wand's a modern author's pen ;
The ferpents round about it twin'd,
Denote him of the reptile kind;
Denote the rage with which he writes,
His frothy flaver, venom❜d bites;
An equal femblance ftill to keep,
Alike too, both conduce to fleep.
This diff'rence only, as the God
Drove fouls to Tart'rus with his red,
With his goofequill the fcribbling elf
nftead of others, damns himself.

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