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Where hot and cold, where sharp and sweet
In all their equipages meet;
Where pleasures mix'd with pains appear,
Sorrow with joy, and hope with fear;
Wherein his dignity and age
Forbid Cadenus to engage;
But friendship in its greatest height,
A constant, rational delight,
On virtue's basis fix'd to last,
When love's allurements long are past,
Which gently warms, but cannot burn,
He gladly offers in return:
His want of passion will redeem
With gratitude, respect, esteem;
With that devotion we bestow,
When goddesses appear below.

While thus Cadenus entertains
Vanessa in exalted strains,
Constring the passion she had shown
Much to her praise, more to his own;
Nature in him had merit plac'd,
In her a most judicious taste:
Love, hitherto a transient guest,
Ne'er held possession in his breast;
So long attending at the gate,
Disdain’d to enter in so late.
Love why do we one passion call,
When 'tis a compound of them all?
He has a forfeiture incurr'd;
She vows to take him at his word,
And hopes he will not think it strange
If both should now their stations change.
The nymph will have her turn to be
The tutor, and the pupil he;
Though she already can discern,
Her scholar is not apt to learn,
Or wants capacity to reach
The science she designs to teach;

Wherein his genius was below
The skill of every common beau,
Who, though he cannot spell, is wise
12nough to read a lady's eyes,

' And will each accidental glance

Interpret for a kind advance.
But what success Vanessa met
Is to the world a secret yet:
Whether the nymph, to please her swain, -
Talks in a high romantic strain,
Or whether he at last descends
To like with less seraphic ends;
Or, to compound the business, whether
They temper love and books together;
Must never to mankind be told,
Nor shall the conscious Muse unfold.
Mean-time the mournful queen of Love
Led but a weary life above: -
She ventures now to leave the skies,
Grown by Vanessa's conduct wise;
IFor though by one perverse, event
Pallas had cross'd her first intent,
Though her design was not obtain'd,
Yet had she much experience gain'd,
And by the project vainly tried,
Could better now the cause decide.
She gave due notice that both parties,
Coram regina pror die Martis,
Should at their peril, without fail,
Come and appear, and save their bail.
All met; and, silence thrice proclaim’d,
One lawyer to each side was nam'd. .
The judge discover'd in her face
Resentments for her late disgrace,
And, full of anger,...shame, and grief,
Directed them to mind their brief,
INor spend their time to show their reading;
She'd have a summary proceeding.
She gather'd under every head
The sum of what each lawyer said,

Gave her own reasons last, and then
Decreed the cause against the Men.
But in a weighty case like this,
To show she did not judge amiss,
Which evil tongues might else report,
she made a speech in open court,
Wherein she grievously complains
“How she was cheated by the swains;’
On whose petition, (humbly shewing
That women were not worth the wooing,
And that, unless the sex would mend,
The race of lovers soon must end)
* She was at lord-knows-what expense
To form a nymph of wit and sense,
A model for her sex design'd,
Who never could one lover find.
She saw her favour was misplac'd;
The fellows had a wretched taste;
She needs must tell them to their face,
They were a senseless, stupid race;
And, were she to begin again,
She'd study to reform the Men,
Or add some grains of folly more
To Women than they had before,
To put them on an equal foot;
And this, or nothing else, would do't:
This might their mutual fancy strike,
Since every being loves its like.
“But now, repenting what was done,
She left all business to her son;
She puts the world in his possession,
And let him use it at discretion.’
' The crier was order'd to dismiss
The court, so made his last “Oyes.”
The goddess would no longer wait,
But, rising from her chair of state,
Left all below at six and sev'n,
Harness'd her doves, and flew to heav'n.

STELLA's BIRTH-DAY, 1720.

LL travellers at first incline
Where'er they see the fairest sign,

And if they find the chambers neat,
And like the liquor and the meat,
Will call again, and recommend
The Angel-Inn to every friend.
What though the painting grows decay’d f
The house will never lose its trade;
Nay, though the treacherous tapster Thomas
Hangs a new Angel two doors from us,
As fine as dauber's hands can make it,
In hopes that strangers may mistake it,
We think it both a shame and sin
To quit the true old Angel-Inn.

Now this is Stella's case in fact;
An angel's face a little crack'd;
(Could poets, or could painters fix
How angels look at thirty-six :)
This drew us in at first to find
In such a form an angel's mind,
And every virtue now supplies
The fainting rays, of Stella's eyes.
See at her levee crowding swains,
Whom Stella freely entertains
With breeding, humour, wit, and sense,
And puts them but to small expence;
Their mind so plentifully fills,
And makes such reasonable bills,
So little gets for what she gives,
We really wonder how she lives!
And, had her stock been less, no doubt
She must have long ago run out.

Then who can think we'll quit the place
When Doll hangs out a newer face,
Or stop and light at Chloe's Head,
With scraps and leavings to be fed?

Then, Chloe, still go on to prate Of thirty-six and thirty-eight;

Pursue your trade of scandal-picking, – Your hints that Stella is no chicken; Your innuendos, when you tell us That Stella loves to talk with fellows; And let me warn you to believe A truth, for which your soul should grieve, That should you live to see the day When Stella's locks must all be gray, When age must print a furrow'd trace On every feature of her face, Though you, and all your senseless tribe, Could Art, or Time, or Nature bribe, To make you look like Beauty's queen, And hold for ever at fifteen, o bloom of youth can ever blind - cracks and wrinkles of your mind; AM men of sense will pass your door, And crowd to Stella's at fourscore.

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4 House of Charles Ford, Esq. Eight Miles from Dublin. Written in 1723.

- Cuicumque nocere volebat
Westimenta dabat pretiosa.

Do Carlos, in a merry spite,
Did Stella to his house invite;
He entertain'd her half a year
With generous wines and costly cheer.
Don Carlos made her chief director,
That she might o'er the servants hector:
In half a week the dame grew mice,
Got all things at the highest price:
Now at the table-head she sits,
Presented with the nicest bits;
She look'd on partridges with scorn,
Except they tasted of the corn;
A haunch of ven’son made her sweat,
Unless it had the right fumette.

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