The manor, Sir?" The manor hold, he cry'd. 2601
"Not that, I cannot part with that"-and dy'd.

And you! brave Cobham, to the latest breath,
Shall feel your ruling paffion strong in death:
Such in those moments as in all the paft,
"Oh, fave my Country, Heaven!" fhall be your Jaft.

MORAL ESSAY S.

EPISTLE II.

TO A LADY.

Of the Characters of Women.

How foft is Silia! fearful to offend ;
The fail-one's advocate, the weak-one's friend, 30
To her Califta prov'd her condu&t nice;
And good Simplicius afks of her advice.
Sudden, the forms' fhe raves! You tip the wink,
But fpare your cenfure; Silia does not drink.
All eyes may fee from what the change arofe, 35
All eyes may fee-a Pimple on her nose.

Papillia, wedded to her amorous spark,
Sighs for the fhades-" How charming is a Park!"
A Park is purchas'd, but the Fair he fees

All bath'd in tears-"Oh odious, odious Trees!" 40
Ladies, like variegated Tulips, fhow,

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,
Aw'd without Virtue, without Beauty charm'd;
Her tongue bewitch'd as oddly as her Eyes,
Lefs Wit than Mimic, more a Wit than Wife;
Strange graces ftill, and stranger flights the fiad,
Was just not ugly, and was just not mad;
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,

45

To make a wash, would hardly stew a child; There is nothing in Mr. Pope's works more highly finish-Has ev'n been prov'd to grant a Lover's prayer, 55 ed than this Epifle: Yet its fuccefs was in no pro- And paid a Tradefman once to make him stare; portion to the pains he took in compofing it. Something Gave alms at Eafter, in a Christian trim; he chanced to drop in a short advertisement prefixed And made a Widow happy, for a whim. to it, on its firft publication, may perhaps account for Why then declare Good-nature is her fcorn, the mall attention given to it. He faid that no one When 'tis by that alone fhe can be born? character in it was drawn from the life. The public Why pique a'l mortals, yet affect a name? believed him on his word, und exprejjed little curio-A fool to Pleafure, yet a flave to fame: fity about a Satire, in which there was nothing per- Now deep in Taylor and the Book of Martyrs, jonal.

N

OTHING so true as what you once let fall, "Moft Women have no Characters at all." Matter too foft a lafting mark to bear,

And beft diftinguish'd by black, brown, or fair.

How many pictures of one Nymph we view,
All how unlike each other, all how true!
Arcadia's Countefs, here, in ermin'd pride,
1s there, Paftora by a fountain fide.
Here Fannia, leering on her own good man,
And there, a naked Leda with a Swan.
Let then the fair-one beautifully cry,
In Magdalene's loofe hair, and lifted eye,
Or dreft in fmiles of fweet Cecilia shine,
With fimpering Angels, Palms, and Harps divine;
Whether the Charmer finner it, or faint it,
If Folly grow romantic, I must paint it.

15

60

Now drinking Citron with his Grace and Chartres;
Now Confcience chills her, and now Passion burns;
And Atheism and Religion take their turns;

A very Heathen in the carnal part,
Yet ftill a fad good Christian at her heart.
See Sin in State, majestically drunk,
Proud as a Peerefs, prouder as a Punk;

[65

70

5 Chafte to her Husband, 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 Seat of Thought:
Such this day's doctrine-in another fit

75

10 She fins with Poets through pure love of Wit.
What has not fir'd her bofom or her brain?
Cæfar and Tall-boy, Charles and Charlemagne.
As Helluo, late Dictator of the Feast,
The Nofe of Haut-gout, and the Tip of Tafte,
Critiqu'd your wine, and analyz'd your meat,
Yet on plain pudding deign'd at home to eat :
So Philomedé, lecturing all mankind
On the foft Paffion, and the Taste refin'd,
Th' Addrefs, the Delicacy-ftoops at once,
And makes her hearty meal upon a Dunce.

Come then, the colours and the ground prepare!
Dip in the Rainbow, trick her off in Air;
Choose a firm Cloud, before it fall, and in it
Catch, ere the change, the Cynthia of this minute. 20
Rufa, whofe eye, quick glancing o'er the Park,
Attracts each light gay meteor of a Spark,
Agrees as ill with Rufa studying Locke,
As Sappho's diamonds with her dirty fmock;
Or Sappho at her toilet's greafy task,
With Sappho fragrant at an evening Mask:
So morning Infects, that in muck begun,
Shine, buzz, and fly-blow in the fetting fun.
VOL. VI.

Flavia's a Wit, has too mnch sense to pray;
To toaft our wants and wishes, is her way;
Nor afks of God, but of her Stars, to give
The mighty bleffing, "while we live, to live." po
25 Then all for Death, that Opiate of the foul!
Lucretia's dagger, Rofamonda's bowl.

Say, what can caufe fuch impotence of mind?
A Spark too fickle, or a Spouse too kind.

3 C

Wife

386

Wife Wretch! with pleasures too refin'd to please; For how fhould equal Colours do the knack?

95, Chameleons who can paint in white and black? "Yet Chloe fure was forni'd without a fpot." Nature in her then err'd not, but forgot,

With too much Spirit to be e'er at cafe;
With too much Quickness ever to be taught;
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.

100

Turn then from Wits; and look on Simo's Mate, No Afs fo meek, no Afs so obftinate.

Or her, that owns her faults, but never mends,
Becaufe fhe's honeft, and the best of Friends.
Or her, whofe Life the Church and Scandal share,

For ever in a Paffion, or a Prayer.

105

With every pleafing, every prudent part,

155

160 Say, what can Chloe want?"-She wants a Heart

She fpeaks, behaves, and acts juft as he ought;
But never, never, reach'd one generous Thought.
Virtue fhe finds too painful an endeavour,
Content to dwell in Decencies for ever.
So very reasonable, fo unmov`d,

As never yet to love, or to be lov'd.
She, while her Lover pants upon her breast,
Or her, who laughs at Hell, but (like her Grace) Can mark the figures on an Indian chest';
Cries, "Ah! how charming, if there's no fuch

place!"

Or who in fweet 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 Eool are two hard things to hit;
For true No-meaning puzzles more than Wit.

But what are thefe to great Atoffa's mind?
Scarce once herfelf, by turns all Womankind!
Who, with herfelt, or others, from her birth
Finds all her life one warfare upon earth:
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 fill out-ran the Wit,
The Pleasure mifs'd her, and the Scandal hit.
Who breaks with her, provokes Revenge
Hell,

But he's a bolder man who dares be well.
Her every turn with Violence pursued,
Nor more a storm her Hate than Gratitude;
'To that each Paffion turns, or foon or late;
Love, if it makes her yield, muft make

hate:

115

120

125

165

And when the fees her Friend in deep despair,
Obferves how much a Chintz exceeds Mohair. 170
Forbid it, Heaven, a Favour or a Debt
She e'er fhould cancel-but fae may forget.
Safe is your fecret still in Chloe's ear;
But none of Chloe's fhall you ever hear.
Of all her Dears she never lander'd one,
But cares not if a thousand are undone
Would Chloe know if you're alive or dead?
She bids her Footman put it in her head.
Chloe is prudent-Would you too be wife?
Then never break your heart when Chloe dles.

Poets heap Virtues, Painters Gems at will, And fhew their zeal, and hide their want of fkill. is well-but, Artists! who can paint or write, from To draw the naked is your true delight.

190

195

That Robe of Quality fo ftruts and fwells,
130 None fee what Parts of Nature it conceals:
Th' exacteft traits of Body or of Mind,
We owe to models of an humble kind.
If Queensberry to ftrip there's no compelling,
her 'Tis from a Handmaid we must take a Helen.
From Peer or Bifhop 'tis no eafy thing
135 To draw the man who loves his God, or King:
Alas! I copy (or any draught would fail)
From honeft Mah'met, or plain Parfon Hale.
But grant, in public Men fometimes are shown,
A Woman's feen in private life alone:
Our bolder talents in full light difplay'd;
Your Virtues open fairest in the fhade.
Ered to difguife, in public 'tis you hide;
There, none diftinguish 'twixt your Shame or
Pride,

140

Superiors? death! and Equals? what a curfe!
But an Inferior not dependant? worse.
Offend her, and she knows not to forgive;
Oblige her, and fhe'll hate you while you live:
But dic, and fhe'll adore you-Then the Buft
And Temple rife-then fall again to duft.
Laft night, her Lord was all that's good and great;
A Knave this morning, and his Will a Cheat.
Strange by the Means defeated of the Ends,
By Spirit robb'd of Power, by Warmth of Friends,
By Wealth of Followers! without one diftrefs 145
Sick of herfelf, through very selfishness!
Atoffa, curs'd with every granted prayer,
Childless with all her Children, wants an Heir.
To Heis unknown defcends th'unguarded store,
Or wanders, Heaven directed, to the Poor.

Pictures, like these, dear Madam, to design,
Aiks no firm hand, and no unerring line;
Some wandering touches, fome reflected light,
Some Lying ftroke alone can hit them right:

150

Weakness or Delicacy; all fo nice,
That each may feem a Virtue, or a Vice.

200

205

In Men we various Ruling Paffions find;
In Women, two almost divide the kind;
Thofe, only fix'd, they firft or last obey,
The Love of Pleafure, and the Love of Sway. 210
That, Nature gives; and where the leffon taught
Is but to pleafe, can Pleasure seem a fault?
Experience, this; by Man's oppreffion curft,
They feck the fecond not to lose the first.

Men, fome to Bufinefs, fome to Pleafure take; 215 Referve with Franknefs, Art with Truth ally'd, But every Woman is at heart a Rake: Men, fome to Quiet, fome to public Strife; But every Lady would be Queen for Life.

250 That it is known to few, most falling into one of the extremes, Avarice or Profufion, ver. 1, &c. The Point difcuffed, whether the invention of Money has been more commodious or pernicious to Mankind, ver. That Riches, either to the Avaricious or the Prodigal, cannot afford Happiness, fcarcely Neceffaries, ver. 89 to 160." That Avarice is an abfolute Frenzy, without an End or Purpose, ver. 113,

P.

275 You hold the word, from Jove to Momus given, That Man was made the ftanding jeft of Heaven:

And Gold but fent to keep the Fools in play,
For fome to heap, and fome to throw away.

5 Had Colepepper's whole wealth been hops and hogs, 65

But I, who think more highly of our kind,
(And, furely, Heaven and I are of a mind)
Opine, that Nature, as in duty bound,
Deep hid the fhining mischief under ground:
But when, by Man's audacious labour won,
Flam'd forth this rival too, its Sire, the Sun,
Then careful Heaven fupply'd two forts of Men,
To fquander These, and Those to hide again.
Like Doctors thus, when much dispute has paft,

Could he himself have fent it to the dogs?

70

His Grace will game: to White's a Bull be led,
With fpurning heels and with a butting head.
10 To White's be carry'd as to ancient games,
Fair Courfers, Vases, and alluring Dames.
Shall then Uxorio, if the stakes he sweep,
Bear home fix Whores, and make his Lady weep?
Or foft Adonis, fo perfum'd and fine,
Drive to St. James's a whole herd of swine?
15 Oh filthy check on all industrious skill,
To fpoil the nation's last great trade, Quadrille?
Since then, my Lord, on fuch a World we fall,
What fay you? B. Say? Why take it, Gold and

We find our tenets just the same at last.
Both fairly owning, Riches, in effect,
No grace of Heaven or token of th' Elect;
Given to the Fool, the Mad, the Vain, the Evil,
To Ward, to Waters, Chartres, and the Devil, 20
B. What Nature wants, commodious Gold be-
ftows;

'Tis thus we eat the bread another fows.

P. But how unequal it beftows, obferve;
'Tis thus we riot, while, who sow it, starve:
What Nature wants (a phrafe I must distrust)
Extends to Luxury, extends to Luft:
Ufeful, I grant, it ferves what Life requires,
But dreadful too, the dark Affaffin hires.

B. Trade it may help, Society extend:

P. But lures the Pirate, and corrupts the Friend.

30

all.

75

P. What Riches give us, let us then enquire ?
Meat, Fire, and Cloaths. B. What more? P. Meat,
Cloaths, and Fire.

Is this too little? would you more than live?
Alas! 'tis more than Turner finds they give.
Alas! 'tis more than (all his vifions past)

90

25 Unhappy Wharton, waking, found at laft!
What can they give? to dying Hopkins, Heirs; 85
To Chartres, Vigour; Japhet, Nose and Ears?
Can they, in gems bid pallid Hippia glow,
In Fulvia's buckle eafe the throbs below;
Or heal, old Narfes, thy obfcener ail,
With all th' embroidery plaifter'd at thy tail?
They might (were Harpax not too wife to spend)
Give Harpax felf the bleffing of a Friend;
Or find fome Doctor that would fave the life
Of wretched Shylock, fpite of Shylock's Wife :
But thoufands die, without or this or that,
Die, and endow a College, or a Cat.
To fome, indeed, Heaven grants the happier fate,
T' enrich a Baftard, or a Son they hate.

35

B. It raife- Armies in a Nation's aid:
P. But bribes a Senate, and the Land 's betray'd.
In vain may Heroes fight, and Patriots rave,
If fecret Gold fap on from knave to knave.
Once, we confefs, beneath the Patriot's cloak,
From the crack'd bag the dropping Guinea spoke,
And jingling down the back-stairs, told the crew,
"Old Cato is as great a rogue as you."
Bleft Paper-credit! last and best supply!
That lends Corruption lighter wings to fly!"
Gold, imp'd by thee, can compass hardest things,
Can pocket States, can fetch or carry Kings;

A fingle leaf fhall waft an Army o'er,
Or fhip-off Senates to fome diftant Shore;
A leaf, like Sibyl's, fcatter to and fro
Our fates and fortunes, as the wind fhall blow:
Pregnant with thousands flits the Scrap unfeen,
And filent fells a King, or buys a Queen.

40

95

Perhaps you think the Poor might have their

part;

Bond damns the Poor, and hates them from his
heart :

The grave Sir Gilbert holds it for a rule
That every man in want is knave or fool:

105

45" God cannot love fays Blunt, with tearless eyes)
"The wretch he ftarves"-and piously denies :
But the good Bishop, with a meeker air,
Admits, and leaves them, Providence's care.
Yet to be just to these poor men of pelf,
50 Each does but hate his neighbour as himself:
Damn'd to the Mines, an equal fate betides
The Slave that digs it, and the Slave that hides. 110
B. Who fuffers thus, mere Charity should own,
Must act on motives powerful, though unknown.
P. Some War, fome Plague, or Famine, they
foresee,

Oh! that fuch bulky Bribes as all might fee,
Still, as of old, incumber'd Villainy!
Could France or Rome divert our brave designs,
With all their bandies, or with all their wines?
What could they more than Knights and 'Squires
confound,

Or water all the Quorum ten miles round?
A ftatefman's flumbers how this fpeech
fpoil!

would
55 Some Revelation hid from you and me.
Why Shylock wants a meal, the caufe is found;
115

"Sir, Spain has fent a thousand jars of oil;
"Huge bales of British cloth blockade the door;
"A hundred oxen at your levee roar."

Poor Avarice one torment more would find;
Nor could Profufion fquander all in kind.
Aftride his cheese Sir Morgan might we meet;
And Worldly crying coals from street to freet,
Whom, with a wig fo wild, and mien fo maz'd,
Pity mistakes for fome poor tradefman_craz'd.

He thinks a Loaf will rife to fifty pound,
What made Directors cheat in South-fea year
60 To live on Venifon when it fold fo dear.
Afk you why Phryne the whole Auction buys!
Phryne forefees a general Excife.
Why the and Sappho raife that monftroes fum?
Alas, they fear a man will coft a plum.

120

Wife

Silence without, and fafts within the wall;
130 No rafter'd roofs with dance and tabor found,
No noontide bell invites the country round:
Tenants with fighs the fmoaklefs towers furvey, A
And turn th' unwilling steeds another way;
Benighted wanderers, the foreft o'er,

Curfe the favid candle, and unopening door;
135 While the gaunt mastiff, growling at the gate, 195
Affrights the beggar whom he longs to eat.

A wizard told him in these words our fate:"
"At length Corruption, like a general flood,
"(So long by watchful Minifters withstood)
"Shall deluge all; and Avarice, creeping on,
Spread like a low-boin mift, and blot the Sun;
"Statefman and Patriot ply alike the Stocks,
"Peerefs and Butler share alike the Box, 140
"And Judges job, and Bishops bite the town,
"And mighty Dukes pack cards for half a crown.
"See Britain funk in lucre's fordid charms,

" And France reveng'd of ANNE's and EDWARD's
" arms !"'

'Twas no Court-badge, great Scrivener, fir'd thy
brain,

Nor lordly Luxury, nor City Gain:
No, 'twas thy righteous end, afham'd to fee
Senates degenerate, Patriots disagree,
And nobly wishing Party-rage to cease,
To buy both fides, and give thy Country

2

peace.

200

Not fo his Son: he mark'd this oversight,
And then mistook reverse of wrong for right.
(For what to fhun, will no great knowledge need }
But what to follow, is a task indeed.)
Yet fure, of qualities deferving praise,
More go to ruin Fortunes, than to raise.
What flaughter'd hecatombs, what floods of wine,
Fill the capacious 'Squire, and deep Divine !
Yet no mean motives this profufion draws,
205
His oxen perish in his country's caufe;
'Tis GEORGE and LIBERTY that crowns the
cup,

And Zeal for that great House which eats him up.
The woods recede around the naked feat,

The Sylvans groan-no matter-for the Fleet: 210
Next goes his Wool-to clothe our valiant bands:
150 Laft, for his Country's love, he fells his Lands,
To town he comes, completes the nation's hope,"
And heads the bold Train-bands, and burns a

155

160

Pope.

215

220

"All this is madness," cries a fober faget
But who, my friend, has reafon in his rage?
"The Ruling Paffion, be it what it will,
"The Ruling Paffion conquers reafon still."
Lefs mad the wildeft whimfey we can frame,
Than even that Paffion, if it has no Aim;
For though fuch motives Folly you may call, •
The Folly's greater to have none at all.
Hear then the truth: “Tis Heaven each Passion
"fends,
q bi
" And different men directs to different ends.
"Extremes in Naturs equal good produce,
"Extremes in Man concur to general use."
Afk we what makes one keep, and one bestow?
That Power who bids the ocean ebb and flow,
Bids feed-time, harvest, equal course maintain, 165
Through reconcil'd extremes of drought and rain,
Builds Life on Death, on Change Duration founds,
And gives th' eternal wheels to know their rounds.
Riches, like infects, when conceal'd they lie,
Wait but for wings, and in their feafon fly.
Who fees pale Mammon pine amidst his store,
Sees but a backward fteward for the Poor;
This year a Refervoir, to keep and spare;
The next a Fountain, fpouting through his Heir,
In lavish ftreams to quench a Country's thirst, 175
And men and dogs fhall drink him till they burst.
Old Cotta fham'd his fortune and his birth,
Yet was not Cotta void of wit or worth:
What though (the use of harbarous spits forgot)
His kitchen vied in coolness with his grot?
His court with nettles, moats with creffes flor'd,
With foups unbought and fallads blefs'd his board? Un-elbow'd by a Gamefter, Pimp, or Player?

And thail not Britain now reward his toils,
Britain, that pays her Patriots with her Spoils ?
In vain at Court the Bankrupt pleads his cause,
His thankless Country leaves him to her Laws.
The Senfe to value Riches, with the Art
T? enjoy them, and the Virtue to impart,
Not meanly, or ambitiously purfu'd,
Not funk by sloth, not rais'd by servitude;
To balance Fortune by a just expence,
Join with Economy, Magnificence;
With Splendor, Charity; with Plenty, Health; 225-
Oh teach us, Bathurst! yet unspoil'd by wealth'!
That secret rare, between th' extremes to move
Of mad Good-nature, and of mean Self-love.

170

B. To Worth or Want well-weigh'd, be Bounty
given,

And cafe, or emulate, the care of Heaven;
(Whofe measure full o'erflows on human race)
Mend Fortune's fault, and justify her grace
Wealth in the grofs is death, but life diffus'd;
As poifon heals, in juft proportion us'd:
In heaps, like Ambergris, a ftink it lies,
But well difpers'd, is incenfe to the skies.

235

P. Who farves by Nobles, or with Nobles eats? The Wretch that trufts them, and the Rogue that

cheats.

Is there a Lord, who knows a chearful ncon 180 Without a Fiddler, Flatterer, or Buffoon? Whofe table, Wit, or modest Merit share,

240

Who