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O had her eyes forgot to blaze!

Or Jack had wanted eyes to gaze. O! But let exclamation cease, presence banish'd all his peace.

Her

So with decorum all things carried,

Miss frown'd, and blush'd, and then was married.

Need we expose to vulgar sight The raptures of the bridal night? Need we intrude on hallow'd ground, Or draw the curtains clos'd around? Let it suffice, that each had charms; He clasp'd a goddess in his arms; And, though she felt his usage rough, Yet in a man 'twas well enough.

The honey-moon like lightning flew,
The second brought its transports too.
A third, a fourth, were not amiss,
The fifth was friendship mix'd with bliss:
But, when a twelvemonth pass'd away,
Jack found his goddess made of clay;
Found half the charms that deck'd her face
Arose from powder, shreds, or lace;
But still the worst remain'd behind,
That very face had robb'd her mind.

Skill'd in no other arts was she, But dressing, patching, repartee;

And, just as humour rose or fell,

By turns a slattern or a belle;

"Tis true she dress'd with modern grace,
Half naked at a ball or race;

But when at home, at board or bed,
Five greasy night-caps wrapp'd her head.
Could so much beauty condescend
To be a dull domestic friend?
Could any curtain lectures bring
To decency so fine a thing?

In short, by night, 'twas fits or fretting;
By day, 'twas gadding or coquetting.
Fond to be seen, she kept a bevy
Of powder'd coxcombs at her levy;
The 'squire and captain took their stations,

And twenty other near relations;

Jack suck'd his pipe, and often broke

A sigh in suffocating smoke;

While all their hours were pass'd between Insulting repartee or spleen.

Thus as her faults each day were known, He thinks her features coarser grown; He fancies every vice she shews, Or thins her lip, or points her nose: Whenever rage or envy rise,

How wide her mouth, how wild her eyes;

He knows not how, but so it is,

Her face is grown a knowing phyz;

And, though her fops are wondrous civil, He thinks her ugly as the devil.

Now, to perplex the ravell'd noose, As each a different way pursues, While sullen or loquacious strife Promis'd to hold them on for life, That dire disease, whose ruthless power Withers the beauty's transient flower: Lo! the small pox, whose horrid glare Levell'd its terrors at the fair; And, rifling every youthful grace, Left but the remnant of a face.

The glass, grown hateful to her sight, Reflected now a perfect fright:

Each former art she vainly tries
To bring back lustre to her eyes.
In vain she tries her paste and creams,
To smooth her skin, or hide its seams;
Her country beaux and city cousins,
Lovers no more, flew off by dozens:
The 'squire himself was seen to yield,
And ev'n the captain quit the field.

Poor madam now condemn'd to hack The rest of life with anxious Jack, Perceiving others fairly flown, Attempted pleasing him alone. Jack soon was dazzled to behold Her present face surpass the old :

With modesty her cheeks are dyed,
Humility displaces pride:

For taudry finery is seen
A person ever neatly clean :
No more presuming on her sway,
She learns good-nature every day:
Serenely gay, and strict in duty,
Jack finds his wife a perfect beauty.

A

NEW SIMILE

IN THE MANNER OF SWIFT.

LONG had I sought in vain to find
A likeness for the scribbling kind;
The modern scribbling kind, who write,
In wit, and sense, and nature's spite:
'Till reading, I forget what day on,
A chapter out of Tooke's Pantheon,
I think I met with something there
To suit my purpose to a hair;
But let us not proceed too furious,
First please to turn to God Mercurius !
You'll find him pictur'd at full length
In book the second, page the tenth:
The stress of all my proofs on him I lay,
And now proceed we to our simile.

Imprimis, pray observe his hat, Wings upon either side-mark that.

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