IV. Yet when fome better-fated youth Shall with his amorous parly move thee; Who dying thus, perfifts to love thee. A BETTER DE ANSWER. EAR Cloe, how blubber'd is that pretty face! Thy cheek all on fire, and thy hair all uncurl'd: Pr'ythee quit this caprice; and (as old Falstaff fays) Let us ev'n talk a little like folks of this world. II. How canft thou prefume, thou haft leave to destroy The beauties, which Venus but lent to thy keeping? Those looks were defign'd to inspire love and joy : More ordinary eyes may ferve people for weeping. III. To be vext at a trifle or two that I writ, Your judgment at once, and my paffion, you wrong You take that for fact, which will scarce be found wit: Od's-life! must one fwear to the truth of a fong? IV. What I fpeak, my fair Cloe, and what I write, fhews I court others in verfe; but I love thee in profe: VOL. I. K V. The V. The God of us verse-men (you know, child) the Sun, How after his journeys he fets up his reft: If at morning o'-r earth 'tis his fancy to run; So when I am weary'd with wandering all day; Then finish, dear Cloe, this paftoral war; PALLAS AND VENUS. AN EPIGRAM. HE Trojan Swain had judg'd the great dispute, THE And Beauty's power obtain'd the golden fruit; When Venus, loose in all her naked charms, Met Jove's great daughter clad in shining arms. The wanton goddess view'd the warlike maid From head to foot, and tauntingly she said : Yield, fifter; rival, yield: naked, you see, I vanquish guefs how potent I fhould be, If to the field I came in armour dreft; Dreadful, like thine, my shield, and terrible : my crest! The The warrior goddess with difdain reply'd Thy folly, child, is equal to thy pride : Let a brave enemy for once advise, And Venus (if 'tis poffible) be wife. Thou, to be strong, must put off every drefs: And more than once (or thou art much bely’d) To a young GENTLEMAN in Love. FROM public noife and factious ftrife, From all the bufy ills of life, Take me, my Celia, to thy breast; Let thee and I, my fair one, dwell; May May Heaven around this destin'd head In the two things I dread and hate, Till I believ'd thy paffion true : Bleft with thy prefence, I can bear. Through waters and through flames I'll go, Trace me fome yet unheard-of way, The ftamp and image of my dear; ་ 5 } } No: No: Venus fhall my witness be "O happy these of human race !" MORA L. WHILE men have these ambitious fancies; And wanton wenches read romances; Our fex will-What? Out with it. Lye; The moral of the tale I fing (A pofy for a wedding ring) In this fhort verfe will be confin'd: |