THE

I N C URA BL E.

PHILLIS,

you boaft of perfect health in vain,
And laugh at those who of their ills complain:
That with a frequent fever Chloe burns,
And Stella's plumpness into dropfy turns!
O Phillis, while the patients are nineteen,
Little, alas! are their diftempers seen.
But thou, for all thy feeming health, art ill,
Beyond thy lover's hopes, or Blackmore's fkill;
No lenitives can thy disease affuage,
I tell thee, 'tis incurable-'tis Age.

T O

FOR T U

NE.

WHILST I in prifon or in court look down,

Nor beg thy favour, nor deserve thy frown,
In vain, malicious Fortune, haft thou try'd,
By taking from my state, to quell my pride;
Infulting girl! thy prefent rage abate;

And, would't thou have me humbled, make me great.

VOL. II.

P

NON

NON PAREIL.

LET

ET others from the town retire,
And in the fields feek new delight;
My Phillis does fuch joys infpire,
No other objects please my fight.

In her alone I find whate'er

Beauties a country landscape grace:
No fhade fo lovely as her hair,
Nor plain fo fweet as in her face.

Lilies and rofes there combine,

More beauteous than in flowery field; Transparent is her skin so fine,

To this each crystal stream must lead.

Her voice more sweet than warbling found,
Though fung by nightingale or lark;
eyes fuch luftre dart around,
Compar'd to them, the fun is dark.

Her

Both light and vital heat they give; ·
Cherish'd by them, my love takes root;
From her kind looks does life receive,
Grows a fair plant, bears flowers and fruit.

Such

Such fruit, I ween, did once deceive
The common parent of mankind;
And made tranfgrefs our mother Eve:
Poison its core, though fair its rind.

Yet fo delicious is its tafte,

I cannot from the bait abstain, But to th' inchanting pleasure haste,

Though I were fure 'twould end in pain.

CHASTE FLORIME L.

No-I'll endure ten thousand deaths,

Ere any farther I'll comply;

Oh! Sir, no man on earth that breathes
Had ever yet his hand so high!

Oh! take your fword, and pierce my heart,
Undaunted fee me meet the wound,

Oh! will you act a Tarquin's part?
A fecond Lucrece you have found.

Thus to the preffing Corydon,
Poor Florimel, unhappy maid !
Fearing by Love to be undone,
In broken dying accents faid.

Delia, who held the confcious door,

Infpir'd by truth and brandy, smil'd, Knowing that, fixteen months before, Our Lucrece had her fecond child.

And, hark ye! Madam, cry'd the Bawd,
None of your flights, your high-rope dodging;
Be civil here, or march abroad;

Oblige the 'Squire, or quit the lodging.

Oh! have I-Florimel went on-
Have I then loft my Delia's aid?
Where fhall forfaken virtue run,

If by her friend fhe is betray'd?

Oh! curfe on empty friendship's name!
Lord, what is all our future view!
Then, dear destroyer of my fame,
Let my laft fuccour be to you!

From Delia's rage, and Fortune's frown,
A wretched love-fick maid deliver!

Oh! tip me but another crown,

Dear Sir, and make me yours for ever.

DOC.

DOCTORS

DIFFE R.

WHEN Willis of Ephraim heard Rochester †

preach,

*

Thus Bentley said to him, I pr'ythee, dear brother, How lik'ft thou this fermon? 'tis out of my reach. His is one way, faid Willis, and our's is another, I care not for carping; but this I can tell, We preach very fadly, if he preaches well.

As you value your peace, make the best of your way.
Though at present arrested by Death's caitiff paw,
If he ftirs, he may ftill have recourfe to the law.
And in the King's-bench fhould a verdict be found,
That by livery and seifin his grave is his ground,
He will claim to himself what is strictly his due,
And an action of trefpafs will straightway enfue,
That you without right on his premises tread,
On a fimple furmise that the owner is dead.

*B. of Gloucester.

† Bp. Atterbury.

P 3

ON