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Thought wondrous honeft, tho' of mean degree,
And ftrangely liked for her Simplicity:
In a translated Suit, then tries the Town,
With borrow'd Pins and Patches not her own:
But just endur'd the Winter she began,
And in four Months a batter'd Harridan. 24
Now nothing left, but wither'd, pale, and shrunk,
To bawd for others, and go shares with Punk,

To Mr. JOHN MOORE,

AUTHOR of the celebrated WoRM

POWDER.

OW much, egregious Moore, are we

Deceiv'd by shews and forms ! Whate'er we think, whate'er we see,

All Humankind are Worms.

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Man is a very Worm by birth,

Vile, Reptile, weak, and vain ! A while he crawls upon the earth,

Then shrinks to earth again.

That Woman is a Worm, we find

E’er fince our Grandame's evil; She first convers'd with her own kind,

That ancient Worm, the Devil.

The Learn'd themfelvés we Book-worms Dame,

The Blockhead is a Slow worn; The Nymph wbofe tail is all on kame,

Is aptly term'd a Glow-worm ;

The Fops are painted Butterflies,

That flutter for a day ;
First from a Worm they take their rise,

And in a Worm decay.

The Flatterer an Earwig grows ;

Thus Worms Tuit all conditions ; Misers are Muck-worms, Silk-worms Beaus,

And Death-watches Physicians.

That Statesmen have the Worm, is seen,

By all their winding play ;
Their Conscience is a Worm within,

That gnaws them night and day.

Ah Moore! thy fkill were well employ'd,

And greater gain would rife,
If thou could'It make the Courtier void

The Worm that never dies!

O learned Friend of Abcburch-Lane,

Who sett'it our entrails free ; Vain is thy Art, thy Powder vain,

Since Worms shall eat ev'n thee.

Our Fate thou only can'ft adjourn

Some few short years, no more!
Ev'n Button's Wits to Worms shall turn,

Who Maggots were before.

SONG, by a Person of Quality.

Written in the Year 1733.

I.
Lutt'ring spread thy purple Pinions,

Gentle Cupid, o'er my Heart;
I a Slave in thy Dominions ;

Nature must give Way to Art.

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II.
Mild Arcadians, ever blooming,

Nightly nodding o'er your Flocks,
See my weary Days consuming,

All beneath yon flow'ry Rocks.

III.
Thus the Cyprian Goddess weeping,

Mourn'd Adonis, darling Youth :
Him the Boar in Silence creeping,

Gor’d with unrelenting Tooth.

IV.
Cynthia, tune harmonious Numbers;

Fair Discretion, string the Lyre;
Sooth my ever-waking Slumbers :
Bright Apollo, lend thy Choir.

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V. Gloomy, Pluto, King of Terrors,

Arm'd in adamantine Chains, Lead me to the Crystal Mirrors,

Wat'ring foft Elysian Plains.

VI.

Mournful Cypress, verdant Willow,

Gilding my Aurelia's Brows, . Morpheus hov'ring o'er my Pillow,

Hear me pay my dying Vows.

VH.. Melancholy smooth Meander,

Swiftly purling in a Round, On thy Margin Lovers wander,

With thy flow'ry Chaplets crown'd.

VIII. Thus when Philomela drooping,

Softly seeks her filent Mate, See the Bird of Juno stooping;

Melody resigns to Fate, 1

On a Certain LADY at COURT.

IT

Know the thing that's most uncommon;

(Envy be filent, and attend!) I know a reasonable Woman,

Handsome and witty, yet a Friend.

Not warp'd by Paffion, aw'd by Rumour,

Not gràve thro' Pride, nor gay thro' Folly, An equal Mixture of good Humour,

And sensible foft Melancholy.

“ Has lhe no faults then (Envy fays) Sir?"

Yes, she has one, I must aver:
When all the World conspires to praise her,

The Woman's deaf, and does not hear.

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