Ladies, like variegated Tulips, fhow;

41

"Tis to their Changes half their charms we owe; Fine by defect, and delicately weak,

Their happy Spots the nice admirer take.
'Twas thus Calypfo once each heart alarm'd, 45
Aw'd without Virtue, without beauty charm'd;
Her Tongue bewitch'd as odly as her Eyes;
Lefs Wit than Mimic, more a Wit than wife.
Strange graces ftill, and ftranger flights she had,
Was juft not ugly, and was just not mad; 50
Yet ne'er fo fure our paffion to create,

As when the touch'd the brink of all we hate.
Narciffa's nature, tolerably mild,

To make a wash, would hardly stew a child;
Has ev'n been prov'd to grant a Lover's pray'r, 55
And paid a Tradesman once to make him stare ;
Gave alms at Eafter, in a Christian trim,
And made a Widow happy, for a whim.

NOTES.

VER. 45: III. Contrarieties in the Cunning and Artful. P. VER. 52. As when the touch'd the brink of all we hate.] Her charms confifted in the fingular turn of her vivacity; confe quently, the ftronger the exerted this vivacity, the more forcible was her attraction. But when her vivacity rofe to that height in which it was most attractive, it was upon the brink of Excefs; the point where the delicacy of fenfuality difappears, and all the coarfeness of it ftands expofed.

VER. 53. IV. In the Whimsical. P.

VER. 57.-in a Chriftian trim.] This is finely expreffed; implying that her very charity was as much an exterior of Reli

60

Why then declare Good-nature is her scorn,
When 'tis by that alone fhe can be born?
Why pique all mortals, yet affect a name?
A fool to Pleasure, yet a flave to Fame:
Now deep in Taylor and the Book of Martyrs,
Now drinking Citron with his Grace and Chartres:
Now Conscience chills her, and now Paffion burns:
And Atheism and Religion take their turns ; 66
A Heathen in the carnal part,

very

Yet ftill a fad, good Chriftian at her heart.

70

See Sin in State, majestically drunk ; Proud as a Peeress, prouder as a Punk ; Chafte to her Hufband, frank to all befide, A teeming Miftrefs, but a barren Bride. What then? let Blood and Body bear the fault, Her Head's untouch'd, that noble feat of Thought: Such this day's doctrine---in another fit

She fins with Poets thro' pure Love of Wit. What has not fir'd her bofom or her brain? Cæfar and Tall-boy, Charles and Charlemaʼne.

VARIATIONS.

VER. 77. What has not fir'd, &c.] In the MS.
In whose mad brain the mixt ideas roll
Of Tall-boy's breeches, and of Cæfar's foul.

NOTES.

75

gion, as the ceremonies of the feafon. It was not even in a Chriftian humour, it was only in a Chriftian trim: not so much as habit, only fashion.

VER, 69. V. In the Lewd and Vicious. P.

As Helluo, late Dictator of the Feast,
The Nose of Hautgout and the Tip of Taste, 80
Critiqu'd your wine, and analyz'd your meat,
Yet on plain Pudding deign'd at Home to eat :
So Philomedé, lect'ring all mankind,
On the foft Paffion, and the Taste refin'd,
Th'Address, the Delicacy---stoops at once, 85
And makes her hearty meal upon a Dunce.
Flavia's a Wit, has too much sense to pray;
To toaft our wants and wishes, is her way;
Nor asks of God, but of her Stars, to give
The mighty bleffing, "While we live, to live.” 90
Then all for Death, that Opiate of the foul!
Lucretia's dagger, Rofamonda's bowl.

Say, what can cause such impotence of mind?
A Spark too fickle, or a Spouse too kind.
Wife Wretch! with pleasures too refin'd to please;
With too much Spirit to be e'er at ease:
With too much Quickness ever to be taught;

96

With too much Thinking to have common Thought:

You purchase Pain with all that Joy can give,

And die of nothing but a Rage to live.

NOTES.

100

VER. 87. VI. Contrarieties in the Witty and Refined. P. VER.89. Nor afks of God, but of her Stars-Death, that Opiate of the foul !] See Note on Ver. 90. of Ep. to Lord Cobham

Turn then from Wits; and look on Simo's

Mate,

No Afs fo meek, no Afs fo obftinate.

Or her, that owns her Faults, but never mends, Because she's honeft, and the best of Friends. Or her, whose life the Church and Scandal share, For ever in a Paffion, or a Pray'r. 106

Or her, who laughs at Hell, but (like her Grace) Cries, "Ah! how charming if there's no such place!"

Or who in sweet viciffitude appears

Of Mirth and Opium, Ratafie and Tears,
The daily Anodyne, and nightly Draught,
To kill thofe foes to fair ones, Time and Thought.
Woman and Fool are two hard things to hit ;
For true No-meaning puzzles more than Wit.

But what are these to great Atoffa's mind? 115 Scarce once herfelf, by turns all Womankind! Who, with herself, or others, from her birth Finds all her life one warfare upon earth:

NOTES.

VER. 107. Or her, who laughs at Hell, bút (like her Grace) Cries, "Ah! how charming if there's no fuch place!"] i. e. Her, who affects to laugh, out of fashion; and strives to difbelieve, out of fear.

120

Shines, in expofing Knaves, and painting Fools,
Yet is, whate'er fhe hates and ridicules.
No Thought advances, but her Eddy Brain
Whisks it about, and down it goes again.
Full fixty years the World has been her Trade,
The wifeft Fool much Time has ever made.
From loveless Youth to unrefpected Age,
No Paffion gratify'd except her Rage.
So much the Fury ftill out-ran the Wit,
The Pleasure mifs'd her, and the Scandal hit.
Who breaks with her, provokes Revenge from Hell,
But he's a bolder man who dares be well.
Her ev'ry turn with Violence purfu'd,

Nor more a storm her Hate than Gratitude:

125

130

To that, each Paffion turns, or foon or late; Love, if it makes her yield, must make her hate: Superiors? death! and Equals? what a curfe! 135 But an Inferior not dependant? worse.

Offend her, and she knows not to forgive;

Oblige her, and she'll hate you

while you

live:

But die, and she'll adore you---Then the Bust

And Temple rife---then fall again to dust. 140

VARIATIONS.

After Ver. 122. in the MS.

Oppress'd with wealth and wit, abundance fad!
One makes her poor, the other makes her mad.