And, as old PLINY'S Writings fhow,
APELLES did the fame at Co.
Agreed these Points of Time, and Place,
Proceed We in the present Cafe.
Picqu'd by PROTOGENES's Fame,
From Co to RHODES, APELLES came;
To fee a Rival and a Friend,
Prepar'd to Cenfure, or Commend,
Here to abfolve, and there object,
As Art with Candor might direct.
He fails, He lands, He comes, He rings:
His Servants follow with the Things:
Appears the Governante of th' House:
(For fuch in GREECE were much in use.)
If Young or Handfom, Yea or No,
Concerns not Me, or Thee to know.
Does 'Squire PROTOGENES live here?
Yes, Sir, fays She with gracious Air,
And Curt'fey low; but juft call'd out
By Lords peculiarly devout;
Who came on purpose, Sir, to borrow
Our VENUS, for the Feaft To-morrow,
To grace the Church: 'tis VBNUS' Day:
I hope, Sir, You intend to stay,
To see our VENUS: 'tis the Piece
The most renown'd throughout all GREECE,
So like th' Original, they say:
But I have no great Skill that Way.
But, Sir, at Six ('tis now paft Three)
DROMO must make my Master's Tea: 2 A
At Six, Sir, if You please to come,
You'll find my Mafter, Sir, at Home. 15
Was found fome twenty Ages after; Madsend Authors, before they write, fhou'd read:
'Tis very true; but We'll proceed.
And, Sir, at prefent wou'd you please o
To leave your Name Fair Maiden, yes:
Reach me that Board. No fooner spoke
But done. With one judicious Stroke, H
On the plain Ground APELLES drew
A Circle regularly true:
And will you please, Sweet-heart, faid He,
To fhew your Mafter this from Me?
By it He presently will know,
How Painters write their Names at Co. Y
the Pannel to the Maid..
Smiling and Curt'fing, Sir, She said, I
I fhall not fail to tell my Master:
And, Sir, for fear of all Difaster, ob don
I'll keep it my own felf: Safe bind, Lodo
Says the old Proverb, and Safe find.
So, Sir, as fure as Key or Lock—
Your Servant Sirat Six a Clock.
Again at Six APELLES came;
Found the fame prating civil Dame.
Sir, that my Mafter has been here,
Will by the Board it self appear.
If from the perfect Line He found,
He has prefum'd to fwell the Round,
Or Colors on the Draught to lay;
'Tis thus (He order'd me to fay)
Thus write the Painters of this Ifle:
Let those of Co remark the Style.
She faid; and to his Hand restor'd
The rival Pledge, the Miffive Board.
Upon the happy Line were laid
Such obvious Light, and eafie Shade;
That PARIS' Apple stood confest,
Or LEDA's Egg, or CLOE's Breast.
APELLES view'd the finish'd Piece;
And Live, faid He, the Arts of GREECE!
Howe'er PROTOGENES and I
May in our Rival Talents vie ;
Howe'er our Works may have express'd,
Who trueft drew, or color'd beft;
When He beheld my flowing Line;
He found at least I cou'd defign:
And from his artful Round, I grant,
That He with perfect Skill can paint.
The dulleft GENIUS cannot fail
To find the Moral of my Tale:
That the diftinguifh'd Part of Men,
With Compass, Pencil, Sword, or Pen,
Shou'd in Life's Vifit leave their Name,
In Characters, which may proclaim
That They with Ardor ftrove to raise
At once their Arts, and Countrey's Praife:
And in their Working took great Care,
That all was Full, and Round, and Fait.
DEMOCRITUS and HERACLITUS.
DE EMOCRITUS, dear Droll, revifit Earth,
And with our Follies glut Thy heighten'd Mirth:
Sad HERACLITUS, ferious Wretch, return,
In louder Grief our greater Crimes to mourn.
Between You both I unconcern'd ftand by:
Hurt, can I laugh and Honest, need I cry?
O Me 'twas giv'n to die! to Thee itis giv'n
To live: Alas! one Moment fets us ev'n.3 m.
Mark! how impartial is the Will of Heav'n
DUM Studeo fungi fallentis munere vitæ,
Adfectoque viam fedibus Elyfiis,
ARCTOA florens Sophiâ, SAMIISQUE fuperbus
Difcipulis, Animas morte carere cano.
Has ego corporibus profugas ad fidera mitto;
Sideraque ingreffis otia blanda dico;
Qualia conveniunt Divis, queis fata volebant
Vitäi faciles mollitèr ire vias:
Vinaque Coelicolis media inter gaudia libo;
Et me quid majus fufpicor effe viro.
Sed fuerint nulli forfan, quos fpondeo, cœli;
Nullaque fint DITIS Numina, nulla Jovis:
Fabula fit terris agitur quæ vita relictis ;
Quique fuperftes, Homo; qui nihil, efto Deus.
Attamen effe hilares, & inanes mittere curas
Proderit, ac vitæ commoditate frui,
Et feftos agitâffe dies, ævique fugacis
Tempora perpetuis detinuiffe jocis.
His me parentem præceptis occupet Orcus,
Et Mors; feu Divum, feu nihil effe velit:
Nam Sophia Ars illa eft, quæ fallere fuavitèr horas
Admonet, atque Orci non timuiffe minas.
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