Lesbia the fair, to fire her jealous lord,
Pretends the fop she laughs at is ador❜d.
In vain she's proud of secret innocence;
The fact she feigns were scarce a worse offence.
Mira, endow'd with ev'ry charm to bless,
Has no design but on her husband's peace:
He lov'd her much, and greatly was he mov'd
At small inquietudes in her he lov’d.

"How charming this?"—The pleasure lasted long;
Now ev'ry day the fits came thick and strong:
At last he found the charmer only feign'd,
And was diverted when he should be pain'd.
What greater vengeance have the gods in store?
How tedious life now she can plague no more!
She tries a thousand arts, but none succeed;
She's forc'd a fever to procure indeed :
Thus strictly prov'd this virtuous, loving wife,
Her husband's pain was dearer than her life.
Anxious Melania rises to my view,

Who never thinks her lover pays his due:
Visit, present, treat, flatter, and adore,
Her majesty to-morrow calls for more.
His wounded ears complaints eternal fill,
As unoil'd hinges querulously shrill.

"You went last night with Celia to the ball."

You prove it false. "Not go that's worst of all."

Nothing can please her, nothing not inflame,
And arrant contradictions are the same.

Her lover must be sad to please her spleen;
His mirth is an inexpiable sin;

For of all rivals that can pain her breast,

There's one that wounds far deeper than the rest;
To wreck her quiet the most dreadful shelf
Is, if her lover dares enjoy himself.

And this, because she's exquisitely fair:
Should I dispute her beauty, how she'd stare?
How would Melania be supris'd to hear
She's quite deform'd? and yet the case is clear.
What's female beauty but an air divine,
Thro' which the mind's all gentle graces shine?
They, like the sun, irradiate all between ;
The body charms, because the soul is seen;
Hence men are often captives of a face,
They know not why, of no peculiar grace.
Some forms, tho' bright, no mortal man can bear?
Some none resist, tho' not exceeding fair.

Aspasia's highly born, and nicely bred,
Of taste refin❜d, in life and manners read,
Yet reaps no fruit from her superior sense,
But to be teas'd by her own excellence.
"Folks are so awkward! things so unpolite !"
She's elegantly pain'd from morn till night,

Her delicacy's shock'd where'er she goes:
Each creature's imperfections are her woes.
Heav'n by its favour has the fair distress'd,
And pour'd such blessings-that she can't be bless'd.
Ah! why so vain, tho' blooming in thy spring,
Thou shining, frail, ador'd, and wretched thing?
Old age will come; disease may come before;
Fifteen is full as mortal as threescore.
Thy fortune and thy charms may soon decay;
But grant these fugitives prolong their stay,
Their basis totters, their foundation shakes,
Life, that supports them, in a moment breaks;
Then wrought into the soul let virtue shine ;
The ground eternal as the work divine.

Julia's a manager, she's born for rule,
And knows her wiser husband is a fool;
Assemblies holds, and spins the subtle thread
That guides the lover to his fair one's bed;
For difficult amours can smooth the way,
And tender letters dictate or convey;
But if depriv'd of such important cares,
Her wisdom condescends to less affairs.
For her own breakfast she'll project a scheme,
Nor take her tea without a stratagem;
Presides o'er trifles with a serious face,
Important by the virtue of grimace.

Ladies supreme among amusements reign,
By nature born to sooth and entertain:
Their prudence in a share of folly lies:
Why will they be so weak as to be wise?

Syrena is for ever in extremes,

And with a vengeance she commends or blames;
Conscious of her discernment, which is good,
She strains too much to make it understood.
Her judgment just, her sentence is too strong;
Because she's right, she's ever in the wrong.

Brunetta's wise in actions great and rare, But scorns on trifles to bestow her care: Thus ev'ry hour Brunetta is to blame, Because th' occasion is beneath her aim. Think nought a trifle, tho' it small appear; Small sands the mountain, moments make the year, And trifles life. Your care to trifles give, Or you may die before you truly live.

Go breakfast with Alicia, there you'll see Simplex munditiis to the last degree : Unlac'd her stays, her nightgown is unty'd, And what she has of head-dress is aside : She drawls her words, and waddles in her pace, Unwash'd her hands, and much besnuff'd her face: A nail uncut, and head uncomb'd she loves, And would draw jack-boots on as soon as gloves:

Gloves by Queen Bess's maidens might be miss'd,
Her blessed eyes ne'er saw a female fist.
Lovers! beware, to wound how can she fail,
With scarlet finger and long jetty nail?
For H- -y the first wit she cannot be,
Nor, cruel R—————d! the first toast for thee.
Since full each other station of renown,

Who would not be the greatest trapes in Town?
Women were made to give our eyes delight:
A female sloven is an odious sight.

Fair Isabella is so fond of fame,

That her dear self is the eternal theme:
Thro' hopes of contradiction oft' she'll say,
"Methinks I look so wretchedly to day."
When most the world applauds you, most beware,
"Tis often less a blessing than a snare.
Distrust mankind, with your own heart confer,
And dread e'en there to find a flatterer.
The breath of others raises our renown;
Our own as surely blows the pageant down.
Take up no more than you by worth can claim,
Lest soon you prove a bankrupt in your fame.
But own I must, in this perverted age,
Who most deserve can't always most engage.
So far is worth from making glory sure,
It often hinders what it should procure.