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She'd walk'd through half a street and better
When at a turn Charisius met her:

Ask'd how she fared, and how she sped.-
"So, so," she cried, and shook her head.
"Is aught the matter?" said the youth;
"For God's sake, Doris, tell me truth."
Forcing a tear from either eye,
The crafty jade thus answer'd sly:
"My mistress madly dotes upon
That dolt, that idiot, Polemon.
'What's worse, and you'll esteem it such,
She hates your company as much."-
"Is't true?" th' astonish'd lover cries.
"Alas! too true," the maid replies:
"I'm sure she beats me black and blue,
If once I dare but mention you."-
'Twas now Charisius plainly proved
He loved her more than he was loved.
(For oft when men neglect the fair,
Whose favours they might freely share,
A rival cleverly thrown in,
Their assiduities may win.)

His haughtiness was now no more;
He begg'd, protested, wept, and swore.
(For beyond bounds is pride dejected,
If once it find itself neglected.)
"Wherein," he cried, "wherein have I
Affronted her unknowingly?
For never, purposely, I swear,
Offended I in aught the fair.-
But I'll go deprecate her ire,
In person my offence inquire.-
Then let my charmer bring her action;
I'll make her any satisfaction.

Though I have err'd, will no repentance
Induce her to revoke my sentence ?"
But Doris hesitated yet,

To make the triumph more complete.
"If on my knees I try to move her,"
Exclaim'd the miserable lover,

"Still must I meet a harsh denial ?"— "Far be 't from me t' oppose the trial,” Said Doris-"go-entreat her pity; And still, perhaps, she may admit ye."

Charisius now, with hope inspired,
(That beauteous youth, so long admired!)
A kind reception flew to meet,
And fell at his beloved's feet.
But Glycera in raptures gazed,

And from his knees the suppliant raised;
Then slyly turn'd about to kiss
The hand which had been touch'd by his.
And soon was his forgiveness past,
For Love forbade her rage to last.
The crafty maid stood smiling by
The while, and archly wink'd her eye,
To show, that she alone had wit

To make the haughty swain submit.

EPISTLE XXIII.* THE DOUBLE MISFORTUNE.

MONOCHORUS TO PHILOCUBUS.

How hard is my lot, and my fate how perverse!
Whom two dread misfortunes join forces to curse :
When one is sufficient to plague one's life through,
'Tis the devil indeed to be saddled with two:
And that each is an evil, will scarce be denied,
Though which the severest, is hard to decide.
First, a profligate jilt throws my money away--
Then my happier rivals all beat me at play :
For as soon as the dice and the tables are set,
Love pops in my head-spoils each cast and each bet.
Thus all my antagonists win what they will,
Though much my inferiors in practice and skill:
For disturb'd, I forget how the chances have gone,
And place to their side what I've gain'd on my own.
Then leaving my play for my mistress, I meet.
A rebuff more severe than my former defeat:
For my rivals outbid me, enrich'd at my cost,
And give, what the moment before I have lost.
Scorn'd and slighted am I, the while they are carest,
And I lend them the weapon to stab my own breast.—
Thus misfortunes, together when join'd, become worse,
And gain from each other additional force.

* Epistle XXIII.] From a man unfortunate both in play and love.

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MUSARIUM TO HER DEAREST LYSIAS.

My lovers, a detested set,

Last night at my apartments met.-
Long did they sit, and stare, while each
Seem'd to have lost the powers of speech;
Expecting when his neighbour's jaws
Should open in the common cause.
At length the boldest of the gang
Arose, and made a fine harangue.
In which the wordy youth profest
Only t' advise me for the best:
But really meant (I guess'd his theme)
To rival you in my esteem.

"No girl," said he, "who treads the stage,
Like you can all our hearts engage;
And since your charms surpass them all,
Why should your profits be so small?
Whereas we gladly would supply you,
But are repulsed and slighted by you
For Lysias; who, to say the truth,
Is but a very awkward youth.
Did he remarkably excel us,
We had no reason to be jealous :
And you might feasibly maintain
That beauty pleased you more than gain.
But now you've not a single plea
For praising him to this degree.
And yet you still remain the same,
And stun us with his odious name;
So oft repeated, that we seem
To hear it even when we dream.
Can it be passion thus to dote ?
No-'t must some phrensy sure denote.
But all we now desire to hear, is
A faithful answer to our queries.
Can Lysias only touch your breast?-
Resolve you to dismiss the rest ?—
Speak but the word-and we desist
But let us know your mind at least."

;

* Epistle XXIV. From a girl to her favoured lover, for whose sake she had dismissed her other admirers.

Thus the whole evening did they preach
In many a long and fruitless speech.
But 'twould require a day and more
To copy half their nonsense o'er—
Suffice it, all their idle chat
Went in at this ear, out at that.
This, and this only, I replied,
"'Tis Cupid that my choice did guide:
He bade my heart its feelings own;
For Lysias live-for him alone."

"Who," cried they, "would that wretch admire,
That antidote to all desire ?

What heart for such a clown can pine ?"—
"Mine," answer'd I with rapture, “mine.".
Then rising, "Fare ye well," I cried,
"But cease my lover to deride.
Your proffer'd treasures I despise,
In Lysias all my transport lies."

Haste then, loved youth, oh hither haste;
The precious moments do not waste :
Oh bring me but one tender kiss;
With int'rest I'll repay the bliss.

Oh! grant me, Venus, this request,
And send the idol of my breast.—

Come, Lysias, come, and soothe my pangs,
On thee my very being hangs.
E'en while I write time slips away :
Then why this torturing delay ?—

Ne'er shall those brutes avail with me-
They're satyrs, when compared with thee.

EPISTLE XXV.* THE SISTERS.

PHILANIS TO PETALA.

As yesterday I went to dine
With Pamphilus, a swain of mine,
I took my sister, little heeding
The net I for myself was spreading;
Though many circumstances led
To prove she'd mischief in her head.
For first her dress in every part
Was studied with the nicest art:

Epistle XXV.] From a girl, accusing her sister of seducing her lover's affections.

Deck'd out with necklaces and rings,
And twenty other foolish things;
And she had curl'd and bound her hair
With more than ordinary care :

And then, to show her youth the more,
A light, transparent robe she wore-
From head to heel she seem'd t' admire
In raptures all her fine attire :
And often turn'd aside to view
If others gazed with raptures too.—
At dinner, grown more bold and free,
She parted Pamphilus and me;
For veering round unheard, unseen,
She slyly drew her chair between.
Then with alluring, am'rous smiles,
And nods, and other wanton wiles,
The unsuspecting youth ensnared,
And rivall'd me in his regard.-
Next she affectedly would sip
The liquor that had touch'd his lip.
He, whose whole thoughts to love incline,
And heated with th' enliv'ning wine,
With interest repaid her glances,

And answered all her kind advances.
Thus sip they from the goblet's brink
Fach other's kisses while they drink ;
Which with the sparkling wine combined,
Quick passage to the heart did find.
Then Pamphilus an apple broke,
And at her bosom aim'd the stroke;
While she the fragment kiss'd and press'd,
And hid it wanton in her breast.
But I, be sure, was in amaze,
To see my sister's artful ways;
"These are returns," I said, "quite fit
To me, who nursed you when a chit.
For shame, lay by this envious art ;-
Is this to act a sister's part?"
But vain were words, entreaties vain,
The crafty witch secured my swain.-
By heavens, my sister does me wrong
But oh! she shall not triumph long;
Well Venus knows I'm not in fault-
'Twas she who gave the first assault:

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