He stamps, he raves, he sobs, he sighs,
The tears ran trickling from his eyes;
He thought but could not speak a curse,
His lips were drawn into a purse,

Just like---like what ?---why, like mine a---;
Faith 'twas an entertaining farce.

Madam no longer could contain,

Triumphant joy bursts out amain;

She laughs, she screams, the house is rais'd,
Thro' all the street th' affair is blaz'd:
In shoals now all the neighbours come,
Laugh out, and press into the room.
Sir Harry Tawdry and his bride,
Miss Tulip, deck'd in all her pride;
Wise Madam Froth, and Widow Babble,
Coquettes and prudes, a mighty rabble:
So great a concourse ne'er was known
At Smithfield, when a monster's shown;
When bears dance jigs with comely mien,
When witty Punch adorns the scene,
Or frolic Pug plays Harlequin.
In vain he strives to hide his head,
In vain he creeps behind the bed,
Ferreted thence, expos'd to view,
The crowd their clam'rous shouts renew:
A thousand taunts, a thousand jeers,
Stark dumb, the passive creature hears.

No perjur'd villain nail❜d on high,
And pelted in the pillory,

His face besmear'd, his eyes, his chops,
With roten eggs and turnip-tops,
Was e'er so maul'd. Phyllis, at last,
To pay him for offences past,
With sneering malice in her face
Thus spoke, and gave the coup de grace:
"Lard how demure and how precise
"He looks! silence becomes the wise.
"Vile tongue! its master to betray,
"But now the pris'ner must obey,
"I've lock'd the door, and keep the key.
"Learn hence, what angry women can,
"When wrong'd by that false traitor man;
"Who boasts our favours, soon or late
"The treach'rous blab shall feel our hate."

VIII. THE WISE BUILDER.

A TALE.

100

}

110

WISE Socrates had built a farm,
Little, convenient, snug, and warm,
Secur'd from rain and wind:

A gallant whisper'd in his ear,
"Shall the great Socrates live here,
"To this mean cell confin'd?”

"The furniture's my chiefest care,"

Reply'd the sage;" "here's room to spare, "Sweet Sir! for I and you;

"When this with faithful friends is fill'd "An ampler palace I shall build; "Till then this cot must do."

IX. THE TRUE USE OF

THE LOOKING-GLASS.

A TALE.

TOM CAREFUL had a son and heir,
Exact his shape, genteel his air,
Adonis was not half so fair;
But then, alas! his daughter Jane
Was but so-so; a little plain.
In mam's apartment, as one day
The little romp and hoyden play,
Their faces in the glass they view'd,
Which then upon her toilette stood;
Where, as Narcissus vain, the boy
Beheld each rising charm with joy!
With partial eyes survey'd himself,
But for his sister, poor brown elf!
On her the self-enamour'd chit
Was very lavish of his wit.

She bore, alas! whate'er she could,

But 'twas too much, for flesh and blood;
What female ever had the grace
To pardon 'scandal on her face?
Disconsolate, away she flies,
And at her dady's feet she lies,

Sighs, sobs, and groans, calls to her aid,
And tears, that readily obey'd,
Then aggravates the vile offence,
Exerting all her eloquence:

The cause th' indulgent father heard,
And culprit summon'd soon appear'd;
Some tokens of remorse he show'd,
And promis'd largely to be good.
As both the tender father prest
With equal ardour to his breast,
And smiling kiss'd, "Let there be peace,'
Said he;""Let broils and discord cease;
"Each day, my children, thus employ
"The faithful mirror: you, my boy,
"Remember that no vice disgrace

"The gift of Heav'n, that beauteous face:
"And you, my girl, take special care
"Your want of beauty to repair

66 By virtue, which alone is fair,"

}

OR, THE FAITHLUL MINISTER OF STATE..

A LONG descent and noble blood

Is but a vain fantastic good,
Unless with inbred virtues join'd,
An honest, brave, and gen'rous mind.
All that our ancestors have done,
Nations reliev'd and battles won,
The trophies of each bloody field,
Can only then true honour yield,
When, like Argyle, we scorn to owe,
And pay that lustre they bestow;
But if, a mean degen'rate race,
Slothful we faint, and slack our pace,
Lag in the glorious course of fame,
Their great achievements we disclaim.
Some bold plebeian soon shall rise,
Stretch to the goal, and win the prize;
For since the forming Hand of old
Cast all mankind in the same mould;
Since no distinguish'd clan is blest
With finer porcelain than the rest;
And since in all the ruling mind
Is of the same celestial kind;
Tis education shews the way
Each latent beauty to display;
Volume II.