Mach more as Pris'ners, our high Bliss we boast,
Being fecur'd from fuch a mighty Hoft

Of deadly Foes, fo fierce with Wrath and Might,
Our felves fo feeble, and unfit to fight
Gainft the black Band of Vicious and Profane,
Who Thoufands do undo in each Campaign.
In the Affault, we feldom brook the Field,
But fly like Hares, or elfe like Cowards yield.
Yet this the World efteems an hard Estate,
And us, who feel it, count unfortunate.
Shew then, Philofophy! the State wherein
Such Safety, and fo much Content is feen;
Wherein lefs rugged or fteep Hindrance lies,
T'obstruct the Path unto Perfection's prize.
The ufeful Rod's only bound up for this,
To whip and lash the Childish on to Bliss;
Who fullenly refuse the Rod to kiss,
And fo the Bleffing in the Whipping mifs.
Some, like the Whale, only defign'd to play
In fruitless Pleasures, drive the flying Day;
As Boys with Clackers drive the Linet away.
Whilft here, we stop the hours of Time, that flies,
With Contemplation's nobler Exercise.
Maugre all Goals, think we e'er long muft dye,
And then enjoy an endless Liberty;
Death will redeem from long Captivity.
Man's Life's a Piece fpun of a various Thred;
In fome 'tis fine, in fome a coarfer Web.
The Threds across, th' Occurrences of Fate;
Cut early from the Loom by Death or late.,
The Dread of Kings, Death does not us difnay;
To dye's lefs, than be tantaliz'd each day:
What Man complains, with Weariness oppreft,
That Night is come, the only time to reft?

A DIALOGUE between the Dutchess of Cleveland the Dutchess of Portf mouth, at their Meeting in Paris. With the Ghost of Jane Shore.

Cl.

A

RT thou return'd my Sifter Concubine, For all those subtle cunning Arts of thine, With which thou didst fubdue our Monarch's Heart, And wouldst not let me with thee fhare a part; Tho my great Beauty did that Heart fubdue, Long e're it could fo meanly ftoop to you?

Portf. I am return'd to fee my Native France, The Place where first I faw the World by chance. Tho mean by Birth, yet Fortune this can do, Help by the Charms of Wit and Beauty too. Methinks my Port and my illustrious Train, Should rather move your Envy than Disdain.

C. My Envy! no, thy Meannefs I defpife,
Thou art a Beggar ftill, tho in disguise.
The noble Ladies of the Gallick Court
Will mock at your fine gaudy Train and Port;
Thy Converse and thy Company they'll fcorn,
Since thou of genteel Blood wert never born.

P. The King's Example, Dutchefs, you will find, Shall make the Ladies of this Court more kind: For many Services for him l'ave done,

Which he I'm fure with Kindness now will own. l'ave ferv'd him with my Perfon and my Wit, But how, to tell you, Madam, 'tis not fit.

C. If you have ought for this great Monarch done, He'l make you then fome Abbess or a Nun.

For

For I do find 'tis not the Guife of France,
Their Whores to noble Titles to advance
But ufually the Royal Mifs is fent,
To fome Religious Cloyster to repent.

P. It is not yet that time of Day with me,
Nor am I fallen to fo low degree;
More joyful Days I yet do hope to see.
Tho I have here of English Guinies store,
I thither will return and get me mofe.
England will me a plenteous Harvest yield,
Here to buy Lands and Palaces to build.

C. Methinks you talk at an immodest rate, Thou French She-Horfe-leech of the English State: Rome us'd to draw its richest Treafures thence, The English Gold was chang'd to Peter's pence: But now that Rome can draw from thence no more, It is enhanced by a Gallick W.

P. If I'm immodeft methinks you are vain,
Thus idly of my Riches to complain :
England did once to you a Harveft yield,
Alas! l'ave but the Gleanings of the Field.
Gold fell into your Lap with a fpring Tide,'
But you have fpent it on your Luft and Pride
Your time is past, and Luft has made you bld
And to be ferv'd you now muft give your Gold;
Or fumble with fome weak old Clergy-man,
To get a Spill your Royet to maintain.

C. O Madam, you must needs be very chaft,
If, as they fay, the Prior you embrac'd.
I laugh to hear of Chaftity from you,
As if a Whore was e'er to one Man true.
I own my Nature, it is brave and high,
With Meffalina I my felf could vie.

Let a dull Husband lie with her that's chaft,
I by a Prince am fit to be embrac'd.

P. Bragnot, your decay'd Beauty is grown ftale, And all your Arts no longer can prevail :

I yet retain my glorious conquering Charms,
Whilft you are banish'd from a Monarch's Arms,
Alas, your Beauty now is in the Wain,
No Art can e'er renew that Face again :
Madam, the shining Glories are all set,
Which makes you thus at your Successor fret.
(good,
C. Dull Tool, my Eyes yet fparkle and are
I feel a vigorous May yet in my Blood;
I'm found and free from any foul Disease,
Can warm a Lover and know how to please:
Whilst thou corrupted, fcentft the very Room
In fpite of Ellences and strong Perfume.
1 can't but wonder by what Magick Art,
Thou e'er couldft conquer a great Monarch's
(Heart.
That Baby's Face of thine, and those black Eyes,
Methinks should ne'er a Hero's Love furprife;
None that had Eyes e'er faw, in that French Face,
O'ermuch of Beauty, Form or comely Grace.

P. You are my Rival and may me despise,
But Lovers fee not with your envious Eyes.
If you in Beauty have the greatest share,
And if that mine cannot with yours compare,
My Wit exceeds, and yours have prov'd but ill,
Since you're caft off and I am courted still.

C. When I did reign, I like a Queen did show,
I fat above and faw crown'd Heads below;
Of Jewels and of Gold I had fuch store,
I knew not how to feek or wish for more,
To me the Idols of the Court all bow'd,
I was adored by the numerous Croud;
Till thou wert feen, who with fome Magick Spell,
Some Charm or Philtre that was made in Hell,
Didft my great Hero's Heart then steal away,
And took by Hell-bred Arts my Beauty's Prey,

This be my Comfort, I did firft fubdue,
They were my Leavings that were fhar'd to you.
P. It shows my Wit and Beauty had moft Power,
When I fubdu'd your mighty Conqueror:
And that I broke into your Beauty's Charms,
And ravished your Hero from your Arms.
l'ave rul'd as well as you, and my French Pate
Has div'd into the great Intrigues of State:
In Balls and Mafques you revel'd out your Nights,
But, Madam, I did relish State Delights:
My Politicks and Arts were deeper bred,
Than ever came into your fhallow Head.
Vain Pride and Pleafure were the things you fought,
Whilft that four Kingdoms did imploy my Thought.
States men did know that you were but a Fool,
But they from me took Measures how to rule..
C. And yet I fee you are turn'd off at last,
And all your cunning Policies misplac'd.

P. You are deceiv'd, and I fhall make you mourn,
When you shall fee me, Madam, back return:
Mind you your Pleasures, game your time away,
My business will not let me longer stay,
To our great Monarch I have much to say.

C. If back to England thou fhouldst e'er return, May thou become the common People's Scorn. May against thee the London Prentice rife, And may they pull out thy bewitching Eyes. Against that time I will go learn to curfe, That Pox or Plague I'll with thee fomething worse. What Specter's this!

P. O Heav'ns, what have we here!

My Joints do tremble and my Soul doth fear.
The Ghost of Jane Shoar to them.

Ghost. Perhaps you know me not, yet take a View, See what I am, I was once fuch as you,

I was a Whore, a Royal Mistress too.