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And not have fuffer'd me to pierce my Heart
So deeply, in the beft, and tend'reft Part;
To make a Lady that Subjection own,
Which is not to the meanest Roman known.
'Twas Diomed, who first a Goddess ftrook,
I from his Hand that curs'd Example took;
But he was far less Criminal than I,
I was a Lover, he an Enemy:

March like a Conqueror in Triumph now,
With Laurel-wreaths encompaffing your Brow,.
And render to the mighty Gods your Vow;
So, as you pafs, th' attending gazing Croud,
By their Applause shall speak your Courage loud;
Let your fad Captive in the Front appear,

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With ftreaming Cheeks, and with dishevell❜d Hair, Thro' all her Grief and Wounds moft eminently fair. Such Lips were form'd for kinder Wounds, than these, Wounds made by Lovers furious Ecftafies:

Though like a Torrent I was hurry'd on,

A Slave to Paffion, which I cou'd not fhun;
I might have only pierc'd her tender Ear
With threat'ning Language, fuch as Virgins fear;
Fear having chill'd the Current of her Blood,
Pale as a Parian Marble Statue ftood

The fenfelefs Frame Then fhook her trembling Knees,
As when the Winds do whistle thro' the Trees,

Or foftly curl the Surface of the Seas:

So flender Rushes, easily inclin'd,

By ev'ry Blaft are ruffled by the Wind;

Tears, which Sufpenfe did for a while reftrain, Gufh'd forth, and down her Cheeks the Deluge ran,

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As

As when the Sun does by a pow'rful Beam®
Diffolve the Frost, it runs into a Stream;
The lamentable Object ftruck me dead,

And Tears of Blood to quench those Tears I shed >
Thrice at her Feet the proftrate Suppliant fell,
And thrice did fhe repulse the Criminal:
What wou'd I not, your Anger to abate,

Redeem your Favour, or remove your Hate?
To your Revenge no Means or Method spare ;~
Revenge, alas! is easy to the Fair:

But left fome eloquent remaining Sign
Should ftill reproach me with so black a Crime,
Let no Disorder in your Face appear,

From your bright Eyes let there not 'scape a Tear,
And once again compofe your scatter'd Hair.

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ELE GY' VIII.

He curfes a Bawd, for going about to debauch® bis Mistress.

T

By Sir CHARLES SIDLEY.

Here is a Báwd renown'd in Venus' Wärs,

And dreadful still with honourable Scars:
Her Youth and Beauty, Craft and Guile fupply,
Sworn Foe to all Degrees of Chaftity:
Dypfas, who firft taught Love-fick Maids the Way"
To cheat the Bridegroom on the Wedding-Day,

And

And then a hundred fubtle Tricks devis'd,

Wherewith the am'rous Theft might be difguis'd;

Of Pigeons-Blood, squeez'd from the panting Heart,
With Surfeit-Water, to contract the Part,

She knows the Ufe: whilft the good Man betray'd,
With eager Arms hugs the falfe bleeding Maid.
Of Herbs and Spells fhe tries the guilty Force,
The Poison of a Mare that goes to Horse.
Cleaving the Midnight Air upon a Switch,
Some for a Bawd, most take her for a Witch.
Each Morning fees her reeling to her Bed,
Her native Blue o'ercome with Drunken Red.
Her ready Tongue ne'er wants an useful Lie,
Soft moving Words, nor charming Flattery.

Thus I o'erheard her to my Lucia speak,
Young Damon's Heart wilt thou for ever break?
He long has lov'd thee, and by me he fends
To learn thy Motions, which he ftill attends.
If to the Park thou go'ft, the Plays are ill;
If to the Plays, he thinks the Air wou'd kill.
The other Day he gaz'd upon thy Face,
As he wou'd grow a Statue in the Place;
And who indeed does not? like a new Star,
Beauty, like thine, ftrikes Wonders from afar.
Alas, methinks thou art ill-dreft to-night,
This Point's too poor; thy Necklace is not right.
This Gown was by fome botching Taylor made,
It spoile thy Shape; this Fucus is ill laid.
Hear me, and be as happy as thou'rt Fair,
Damon is Rich, and what thou want'ft, can spare.

Like thine his Face, like thine his Eyes are thought,
Wou'd he not buy, he might himself be bought.
Fair Lucia blufh'd; It is a fign of Grace,
Dypfas reply'd, that Red becomes thy Face.
All Lovers now, by what they give, are weigh'd,
And she is best belov'd, that is best paid.
The Sun-burnt Latines, in old Tatius' Reign,
Did to one Man perhaps their Love restrain.
Venus in her Æneas' City rules,

And all adore her Deity, but Fools.

Go on, ye Fair, Chafte only let fuch live,
As none will ask, and know not how to give.
How prettily you frown? But I'll speak on,
Hear me, another Day 'twill be your own.
Virtuous Penelope is faid t' have try?d,
With a strong Bow, each lufty Lover's fide.
Nor did Lucretia kill herself for Rage,

But Love of Tarquin, in that colder Age.
To the young Prince fhe vow'd, ne'er more to join
In dull Embraces with her Collatine.

To keep her Word fhe dy'd

Life fteals away, and our beft Hours are gone,
Ere the true Ufe, or Worth of them, be known.
Things long neglected of themselves decay;
What we forbear, Time rudely makes his Prey.
Beauty is beft preferv'd by Exercise,

Nor for that Task can one, or few fuffice.

Wou'dft thou grow Rich, thou must from many take;
From one 'twere hard continually to rake.
Without new Gowns, and Coaches, who can live?

What does thy Poet, but new Verses give ?

A

A Poet, the last thing that Earth does breed,
Whofe Wit, for Sixpence, any one may read.
Him that will give, to Homer I prefer,
To give is an ingenious Thing, I fwear:
Defpife not any can a Prefent make;

It matters not from whom, but what we take.
Nor with the Sound of Title be thou caught;
For nothing can with empty Names be bought.
Hang the poor Lover, and his Pedigree;
The thriving Merchant, or fat Judge, give me.
If any beardless Stripling ask a Night,
And think thee paid with mutual Delight;
Bid him go earn thy Price among the Men,
And when he has it, come to thee again.
Love truly none, but seem in Love with all,
And at old Friends to thy new Lover rail.
Sometimes deny, 'twill Appetite procure;
The fharp-fet Hawks will ftoop to any Lure.
"Then grant again, left he a Habit get
Of living from thee; but be fure thou let
No empty Lover in: murmur fometimes,
And as first hurt, reproach him with thy Crimes.
Seem jealous, when thou't been thy felf to blame,
"Twill ftop his Mouth, if thou the first complain.]
All thou haft done be ready to forfwear:

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For Lover's Oaths fair Venus has no Ear.

Whilft he is with thee, let fome Woman bring
Some Indian Stuff, or Foreign precious Thing;

Which thou must say thou want'ft, and he must buy, Tho' for it fix Months hence in Goal he lie.

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