Nor Party's voice, nor Faction's roar,
Their baleful influence there have fled;"
Ill-nature never op'd the door,

Nor Spleen once dar'd to fhew her head.

Yet books their moral ftore display,

And focial wit and chat go round;
The mufe there tunes her ruftic lay,
And Leisure loves th' enchanted ground.

Tho' Pride on humble fcenes looks down,
And longs in pomp to pass the hours,
There are, who gladly quit the town,
For tranquil joys in Afhted bow'rs.

THE DYING RAKE' SOLILOQUY.

BY DR. BARTHOLOMEW.

IN the fever of Youth ev'ry pulfe in a flame,
Regardless of Fortune, of Health, and of Fame,
Gay Pleasure my aim, and Profufion my pride,
No vice was untafted, no wish was denied.
Grown headstrong and haughty, capricious and vain,
Not decency aw'd me, nor laws could refrain;

The

The vigils of Comus and Venus I kept,
Tho' tired, not fated, in sunshine I slept :
All my appetites pall'd, I no pleasure enjoy'd,
Excess made 'em tastelefs, their frequency cloy'd.
When my health and my fortune to riot gave way,
And my parts and my vigour felt total decay,

The Doctors were fent for, who, greedy of fees,
Engag'd that their skill should remove the disease:
With looks most important each fymptom'was weigh'd,
And the farce of prescription full gravely was play'd.

Reduc'd by their arts, and quite worn to a lath, My carcafe was fent to the vultures at Bath. When drench'd and well drain'd by the faculty there, All the hope that remain'd was to try native air. Scarce a doit in my purse, or a drop in my veins, To my old mortgag'd house they convey'd my remains; No friend to affist me, no relation to grieve, And fcarcely a bed my poor bones to receive; With folitude curs'd, and tormented with pain, Distemper'd my body, distracted my brain.

Thus from folly to vice, and from vice to the grave,

I fink, of my paffions the victim and flave.
No longer debauch, or companions deceive,
But, alarm'd at the vengeance I'd fain difbelieve,
With horrors foreboding defponding I lie,
Tho' tired of living, yet dreading to die.

Vol. VI.

E

The

The following is an Allegory on the Game of Quadrille. It was written by Mr. Congreve. See Swift's Letters, vol. ii. page 198.

SUBSTANCE OF AN INFORMATION TAKEN BEFORE

ONE OF HIS MAJESTY'S JUSTICES OF THE

PEACE.

THAT four Ladies of Quality, whom the deponent does not care to name, repair mightily to a certain convenient houfe, to meet four gallants, of the highest rank, whom the deponent would not name, but fo far defcribed, that two of them were of a fwarthy, and two of a ruddy complexion (but he believes they were abominably painted); the gallants are called by these Ladies, by the fond names of Hercules, Cupid, Pitts, and the Gardener.

After a plentiful fervice of the moft coftly fifh, they begin to play their tricks like the tumblers in Bartholomew Fair, upon a carpet ; strip is the word, and it has been known, that they have lately stripp'd a Gentleman who lately came into the house.

At first they begin very civilly, as, Madam, by your leave, or fo, which the Lady is fo good as feldom to refufe.

By

By a certain established rule of precedency, every Lady has, in her turn, the choice of her gallant, and fome have been known fo unreasonable, that after they have had three, they have called for a fourth.

Afterwards, it is fhameful to relate the tricks that are played by the lewd pack; fometimes they are thrown on their backs, fometimes on their bellies, and thus they make beasts of one another; now hickledy-pickledy, and by and by you may see them a-top of one another.

Their difcourfe is of a piece with their practiseThe deponent has often heard them talk of their Awith as much ease as they do of their hands.-I have a black one, fays one, and names the thing directly. -Mine is better than yours, fays another, and names it.-Muft I be laughed at, only because I have a red one, fays the third.

It is a conftant rule, that if a Lady is called upon, the must fhow all.

What is monstrous; it has been known, that after a Lady has had fix-she has afked a Gentleman if he could no more-and it has been known, that when the Ladies have been tired with their gallants, they

have called for fresh ones.-In fhort, thofe Ladies have spent not only their pin-money, but their hufbands' eftates, upon Hercules, Cupid, Pitts, and the Gardener; and when they want ready money, they commonly pawn their most valuable jewels.

s o N

SAYS Phoebe, why is gentle Love

A stranger to that mind,

Which pity and esteem can move,
Which can be just and kind?

Is it because you fear to prove

The ills that Love moleft;

G*.

The jealous cares, the fighs that move

The captivated breast?

Alas! by fome degree of woe,

We ev'ry blifs must gain;

That heart that ne'er a transport know,

That never felt a pain.

* First published in one of the daily Papers, in August, 1769,

as a production of Mr. Pope.