ON A CERTAIN LADY AT COURT?.

KNOW the thing that's most uncommon;
(Envy, be silent, and attend!)

I know a reasonable Woman,
Handsome and witty, yet a Friend.

1 Mary, daughter of Viscount Howe, Maid of Honour to Queen Caroline, married Lord Pembroke, and after his death Colonel Mordaunt, brother to the Earl of Peterborough.

Croker; note to Lord Hervey's Memoirs.
2 The lady addressed was Mrs Howard, bed-
chamber woman to Queen Caroline, and after-
wards Countess of Suffolk. Warton. [Mistress

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

Not grave thro' Pride, or gay through Folly,
An equal Mixture of good Humour,
And sensible soft Melancholy.

"Has she no faults then (Envy says), Sir?"
Yes, she has one, I must aver;

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When all the World conspires to praise her,
The Woman's deaf, and does not hear.

A FAREWELL TO LONDON.

IN THE YEAR 1715.

[The second stanza of this has been omitted.]

EAR, damn'd distracting town,

Darewell!

Thy fools no more I'll tease:
This year in peace, ye critics, dwell,
Ye harlots, sleep at ease!

Soft B and rough C-s adieu,
Earl Warwick make your moan,
The lively Hk and you

May knock up whores alone1.

To drink and droll be Rowe allow'd
Till the third watchman's toll;
Let Jervas gratis paint, and Frowde
Save three-pence and his soul.

Farewell, Arbuthnot's raillery

On every learned sot;

The love of arts lies cold and dead
In Halifax's urn:

And not one Muse of all he fed
Has yet the grace to mourn 5.

My friends, by turns, my friends con-
found,

Betray, and are betrayed:
Poor Y-r's sold for fifty pound,
And B- -11 is a jade.

Why make I friendships with the great,
When I no favour seek?
Or follow girls, seven hours in eight?
I us'd but once a week.
Still idle, with a busy air,

Deep whimsies to contrive;

And Garth, the best good Christian he, The gayest valetudinaire,
Although he knows it not.

Lintot, farewell! thy bard must go;
Farewell, unhappy Tonson!
Heaven gives thee for thy loss of Rowe,

Lean Philips, and fat Johnson3.
Why should I stay? Both parties rage;
My vixen mistress squalls;
The wits in envious feuds engage:

And Homer (damn him!) calls*.

of George II., who, according to Horace Walpole, quoted by Carruthers, granted the reprieve of a condemned malefactor, in order that an experiment might be made on his ears for her benefit.]

[C-s is evidently Craggs; and H-k, as Carruthers interprets the hiatus, Lord Hinchinbrook, a young nobleman of spirit and fashion.]

2 Rowe had the year before, on the accession of George I., been made Poet Laureate, one of the land-surveyors of the port of London, Clerk of the Closet to the Prince of Wales, and Secre

Most thinking rake, alive.
Solicitous for others' ends,

Though fond of dear repose;
Careless or drowsy with my friends,
And frolic with my foes.
Luxurious lobster-nights, farewell,

For sober, studious days!
And Burlington's delicious meal,

For salads, tarts, and pease!

Adieu to all, but Gay alone,
Whose soul, sincere and free,
Loves all mankind, but flatters none,
And so may starve with me.

THE BASSET-TABLE.

AN ECLOGUE.

ONLY this of all the Town Eclogues was Mr Pope's; and is here printed from a copy corrected by his own hand.-The humour of it consists in this, that the one is in love with the Game, and the other with the Sharper. Warburton. [The original edition of the Town Eclogues was published in 1716 anonymously, and consisted of three eclogues, written to parody the Pastorals of Pope and Philips, entitled respectively the Basset-Table, the Drawing-Room, and The Toilet. They were first ascribed to Gay, to whose mock pastorals they bear much resemblance. Three others were added by the same hand which had written all the Town Eclogues except the Basset-Table, viz. that of Lady M. W. Montagu.]

CARDELIA. SMILINDA.

CARDELIA.

HE Basset-Table spread, the Tallier come1;

Rise, pensive Nymph, the Tallier waits for you:

SMILINDA.

Ah, Madam, since my SHARPER is untrue,

I joyless make my once ador'd Alpeu.

I saw him stand behind OMBRELIA'S Chair,

And whisper with that soft, deluding air,

And those feign'd sighs which cheat the list'ning Fair.

CARDELIA.

Is this the cause of your Romantic strains?

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A mightier grief my heavy heart sustains.
As You by Love, so I by Fortune cross'd;
One, one bad Deal, Three Septleva's have lost.

SMILINDA.

Is that the grief, which you compare with mine?
With ease, the smiles of Fortune I resign:
Would all my gold in one bad Deal were gone;
Were lovely SHARPER mine, and mine alone.

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CARDELIA.

A Lover lost, is but a common care;

And prudent Nymphs against that change prepare:

The KNAVE OF CLUBS thrice lost: Oh! who could guess
This fatal stroke, this unforeseen Distress?

[Basset was a game commonly played in England at the period after the Restoration; and in France in the reign of Louis XIV., who issued

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an ordinance prohibiting it and similar games. Chatto.]

SMILINDA.

See BETTY LOVET! very à propos,
She all the cares of Love and Play does know:
Dear BETTY shall th' important point decide;
BETTY, who oft the pain of each has try'd;
Impartial, she shall say who suffers most,
By Cards' Ill Usage, or by Lovers lost.

LOVET.

Tell, tell your griefs; attentive will I stay,
Tho' Time is precious, and I want some Tea.
CARDELIA.

Behold this Equipage, by Mathers wrought,
With Fifty Guineas (a great Pen'worth) bought.
See, on the Tooth-pick, Mars and Cupid strive;
And both the struggling figures seem alive.
Upon the bottom shines the Queen's bright Face;
A Myrtle Foliage round the Thimble-Case.

Jove, Jove himself, does on the Scissors shine;
The Metal, and the Workmanship, divine!

SMILINDA.

This Snuff-Box,- -once the pledge of SHARPER'S love, When rival beauties for the Present strove;

At Corticelli's he the Raffle won;

Then first his Passion was in public shown:

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A Rival's envy (all in vain) to hide.

HAZARDIA blush'd, and turn'd her Head aside,

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This Snuff-Box,-on the Hinge see Brilliants shine:
This Snuff-Box will I stake; the Prize is mine.

CARDELIA.

Alas! far lesser losses than I bear,
Have made a Soldier sigh, a Lover swear.
And Oh! what makes the disappointment hard,
'Twas my own Lord that drew the fatal Card.
In complaisance, I took the Queen he gave;
Tho' my own secret wish was for the Knave.
The Knave won Sonica, which I had chose;
And, the next Pull, my Septleva I lose.

SMILINDA.

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But ah! what aggravates the killing smart,
The cruel thought, that stabs me to the heart;
This curs'd OMBRELIA, this undoing Fair,
By whose vile arts this heavy grief I bear;
She, at whose name I shed these spiteful tears,
She owes to me the very charms she wears.

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An awkward Thing, when first she came to Town;
Her Shape unfashion'd, and her Face unknown:
She was my friend; I taught her first to spread
Upon her sallow cheeks enliv'ning red:

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