We'll buy English filks for our wives and our daughters,

In fpite of his deanfhip and journeyman Waters.
In England the dead in woollen are clad,

The dean and his printer then let us cry fy on;
To be cloth'd like a carcafe, would make a Teague
Since a living dog better is than a dead lion. [mad,
Our wives they grow fullen
At wearing of woollen,

And all we poor fhop-keepers muft our horns
pull in.
[daughters,
Then we'll buy English filks for our wives and our
In fpite of his deanfhip and journeyman Waters.
Whoever our trading with England would hinder,
To inflame both the nations do plainly confpire;
Because Irish linen will foon turn to tinder,
And wool it is greafy, and quickly takes fire.
Therefore I affure you,

Our noble grand jury, When they faw the dean's book, they were in a great fury.

They would buy English filks for their wives and their daughters,

In spite of his deanship and journeyman Waters.
This wicked rogue Waters, who always is finning,
And before corum nobus so oft has been call'd,
Henceforward fhall print neither pamphlets nor
linen,
[mawl'd:

And, if fwearing can do't, fhall be fwingingly
And as for the dean,

You know whom I mean,

If the printer will 'peach him, he'll fcarce come off clean. [daughters, Then we'll buy English filks for our wives and our In fpite of his deanship and journeyman Waters.

THE PROGRESS OF BEAUTY.

1720.

WHEN first Diana leaves her bed,
Vapours and fteams her looks difgrace,

A frowzy dirty-colour'd red

Sits on her cloudy wrinkled face:
But by degrees, when mounted high,
Her artificial face appears
Down from her window in the sky,
Her fpots are gone, her visage clears.
"Twixt earthly females and the moon
All parallels exactly run:
If Celia fhould appear too soon,

Alas, the nymph would be undone !
To fee her from her pillow rife,

All reeking in a cloudy fteam, Crack'd lips, foul teeth, and gummy eyes, Poor Strephon! how would he blafpheme! Three colours, black, and red, and white, So graceful in their proper place, Remove them to a different fcite, They form a frightful hideous face: For instance, when the lily fkips Into the precincts of the rofe, And takes poffeffion of the lips, Leaving the purple to the nose:

So Celia went entire to bed,

All her complexion fafe and found; But, when she rofe, white, black, and red, Though ftill in fight, had chang'd their grou The black, which would not be confin'd, A more inferior station feeks; Leaving the fiery red behind,

And mingles in her muddy cheeks.
But Celia can with ease reduce,

By help of pencil, paint and brush,
Each colour to its place and ufe,
And teach her cheeks again to blush.
She knows her early felf no more,
But fill'd with admiration ftands;
As other painters oft' adore

The workmanship of their own hands.
Thus, after four important hours,

Celia's the wonder of her sex:
Say, which among the heavenly powers
Could caufe fuch marvellous effects?

Venus, indulgent to her kind,

Gave women all their hearts could wish, When first she taught them where to find White lead and Lufitanian* dish. Love with white-lead cements his wings: White-lead was fent us to repair Two brightest, brittleft, earthly things, A lady's face, and China-ware. She ventures now to lift the fash :

The window is her proper sphere: Ah, lovely nymph! be not too rash, Nor let the beaux approach too near. Take pattern by your fifter star:

Delude at once and biefs our fight;
When you are feen, be feen from far,
And chiefly choose to shine by night.
But art no longer can prevail,

When the materials all are gone;
The best mechanic hand must fail,
Where nothing's left to work upon.
Matter, as wife logicians fay,
Cannot without a form subsist;
And form, fay I, as well as they,
Muft fail, if matter brings no grift.
And this is fair Diana's cafe ;

For all aftrologers maintain,
Each night a bit drops off her face,

When mortals fay fhe's in her wane:

While Partridge + wifely fhows the cause
Efficient of the moon's decay,
That Cancer with his poisonous claws
Attacks her in the milky way :

But Gadbury, in art profound,
From her pale checks pretends to fhow,
That fwain Endymion is not found,
Or else that Mercury's her foe.

Est, let the cause be what it will,

In half a month the looks fo thin, That Flamfteed † can, with all his fkill, See but her forehead and her chin. Yet, as the waftes, the grows difcreet,

Till midnight never shows her head: So rotting Celia ftrolls the street,

When fober folks are all a-bed:

For fure, if this be Luna's fate,
Poor Celia, but of mortal race,
In vain expects a longer date

To the materials of ber face.

When Mercury her tresses mows,

To think of black-lead combs is vain;

No painting can restore a nofe,

Nor will her teeth return again.

Ye powers, who over love prefide!
Since mortal beauties drop fo foon,
Eye would have us well supply'd,
Send us a

nymphs with each new moon!

THE PROGRESS OF POETRY.
Tar farmer's goofe, who in the stubble
Has fed without restraint or trouble,
Grown fat with corn, and fitting ftill,
Ca fcarce get o'er the barn-door fill;
And hardly waddles forth to cool
Har belly in the neighbouring pool;
Nor loudly cackles at the door;
fer cackling fhows the goofe is poor.
But, when she must be turn'd to graze,
And round the barren common frays,
Hard exercife and harder fare

So make my dame grow link and fpare:
Her body light, fhe tries her wings,

And icorns the ground, and upward fprings;
While all the parish, as the flies,
Hear founds harmonious from the skies.
Such is the poet fresh in pay
The third night's profits of his play);
His morning-draughts till noon can fwill
Among his brethren of the quill:
With good roaft beef his belly full,
Grown lazy, foggy, fat, and dull,
Deep funk in plenty and delight,
What part e'er could take his flight?
Or ftuff'd with phlegm up to the throat,
What poet e'er could fing a note?
Nor Pegasus could bear the load
Along the high celeftial road;

The feed, opprefs'd, would break his girth,
To raise the lumber from the earth.
But view him in another scene,
When all his drink is Hippocrene,
His money spent, his patrons fail,
His credit out for cheese and ale;
His two-years coat fo fmooth and bare,
Through every thread it lets in air;
With hungry meals his body pin'd,

His guts and belly full of wind;
And, like a jockey for a race,

His feth brought down to flying cafe:
Now his exalted fpirit loaths
Incumbrances of food and clothes;

† John Flamficed, the celebrated åfironomer royal.

And up he rifes, like a vapour,
Supported high on wings of
paper;
He finging flies, and flying fings,
While from below ali Grub-street rings.

THE SOUTH SEA PROJECT. 1721.

M

"Apparent rari nantes in gurgite vasto, "Arma virum, tabulæque, et Troia gaza per undas."

YE wife philofophers, explain

What magic makes our money rife,
When dropp'd into the Southern main;
Or do thefe jugglers cheat our eyes?
Put in your money fairly told;
Prefto! be gone "Tis here again :
Ladies and gentlemen, behold,
Here's every piece as big as ten.
Thus in a bason drop a fhilling

Then fill the veffel to the brim;
You shall obferve, as you are filling,
The ponderous metal feems to fwim.
It rifes both in bulk and height,
Behold it fwelling like a fope;
The liquid medium cheats your fight;
Behold it mounted to the top!

In stock three hundred thousand pound;
I have in view a lord's eftate;
My manors all contiguous round;
A coach and fix, and ferv'd in plate!
Thus, the deluded bankrupt raves;

Puts all upon a defperate bet;
Then plunges in the Southern waves,
Dipt over head and ears-in debt.
So, by a calenture misled,

The mariner with rapture fees,
On the smooth ocean's azure bed,
Enamel'd fields and verdant trees:
With eager hafte he longs to rove

In that fantastic scene, and thinks
It must be fome enchanted grove;
And in he leaps, and down he finks.
Five hundred chariots, juft befpoke,

Are funk in thefe devouring waves, The horfes drown'd, the harness broke, And here the owners find their graves. Like Pharaoh, by directors led;

They with their spoils went fafe before; His chariots, tumbling out the dead, Lay fhatter'd on the Red-Sea fhore. Rais'd up on Hope's afpiring plumes, The young adventurer o'er the deep An eagle's flight and state affumes,

And fcorns the middle-way to keep.
On paper wings he takes his flight,
With wax the father bound them faft;
The wax is melted by the height,
And down the towering boy is caft.

A moralift might here explain
The rafhnels of the Cretan youth;

VIRG

Defcribe his fall into the main,'

And from a fable form a truth.

His wings are his paternal rent,

He melts the wax at every flame; His credit funk, his money spent,

In Southern Seas be leaves bis name. Inform us, you that best can tell,

Why in yon' dangerous gulph profound, Where hundreds and where thoufands fell, Fools chiefly float, the wife are drown'd? So have I feen from Severn's brink

A flock of geefe jump down together; Swim, where the bird of Jove would fink, And, fwimming, never wet a feather. But, I affirm, 'tis false in fact,

Directors better knew their tools; We fee the nation's credit crack'd,

Each knave háth made a thousand fools.

One fool may from another win,

And then get off with money ftor'd; But, if a barper once comes in,

He throws at all, and fweeps the board.

As fishes on each other prey,

The great ones fwallowing up the finall; So fares it in the Southern Sea;

The whale directors eat up all.
When flock is high, they come between,
Making by fecond-hand their offers;
Then cunningly retire unfeen,

With each a million in his coffers.
So when upon a moon-fhine night
An afs was drinking at a stream;
A cloud arofe, and stopp'd the light,
By intercepting every beam :
The day of judgment will be on

(Cries out a fage among the crowd);
An afs hath fwallow'd up the moon!
(The moon lay fafe behind a cloud).
Each poor fubfcriber to the fea

Sinks down at once, and there he lies; Directors fall as well as they,

Their fall is but a trick to rife.

So fishes, rifing from the main,

Can foar with moisten'd wings on high ; The moisture dry'd, they fink again, And dip their fins again to fly. Undone at play, the female troops Come here their loffes to retrieve; Ride o'er the waves in fpacious hoops, Like Lapland witches in a fieve. Thus Venus to the fea defcends,

As poets feign; but where's the moral ? It shows the Queen of love intends

To fearch the deep for pearl and coral.

The fea is richer than the land,

I heard it from my grannam's mouth; Which now I clearly understand,

For by the fea fhe meant the South.

Thus by directors we are told,

ས

Pray, Gentlemen, believe your eyes;

Our ocean's cover'd o'er with gold,
Look round and fee how thick it lies:
We, Gentlemen, are your affifters,
We'll come, and hold you by the chin"
Alas! all is not gold that glifters,
Ten thoufand link by leaping ifi.
Oh! would those patriots be so kind,
Here in the deep to wash their bands,
Then, like Pactolus, we fhould find
The fea indeed had golden fands.
A fhilling in the bath you fling;
The filver takes a nobler hue,
By magic virtue in the spring,
And feems a guinea to your view.
But, as a guinea will not pafs

At market for a farthing more,
Shown through a multiplying-glafs,
Than what it always did before:
So caft it in the Southern Seas;

Or view it through a jobber's bill; Put on what spectacles you please, Your guinea's but a guinea ftill. One night a fool into a brook

Thus from a hillock looking down, The golden fars for guineas took, And filver Cynthia for a crown. The point he could no longer doubt; He ran, he leapt into the flood; There fprawl'd awhile, and fcarce got out, All cover'd o'er with flime and mud. "Upon the water caft thy bread, "And after many days thou'lt find it;" But gold upon this ocean fpread

Shall fink, and leave no mark behind it. There is a gulph, where thousands fell,

Here all the bold adventurers came, A harrow found, though deep as hell; 'Change-Alley is the dreadful name. Nine times a day it ebbs and flows; Yet he that on the furface lies, Without a pilot feldom knows

The time it falls, or when 'twill rife. Subscribers here by thousands float, And joftle one another down; Each paddling in his leaky boat; And here they fish for gold, and drown. «* Now bury'd in the depth below, "Now mounted up to heaven again, "They reel and ftagger to and fro, "At their wits end, like drunken men.' Mean time fecure on Garraway + cliffs,

"

A favage race by fhipwrecks fed, Lie waiting for the founder'd fkiffs, And ftrip the bodies of the dead. But thefe, you fay, are factious lies, From fome malicious Tory's brain; For, where Directors get a prize, The Swifs and Dutch whole millions drain.

1

Thus, when by rooks a lord is ply'd,
Some cully often wins a bet,
By venturing on the cheating fide,
Though not into the fecret let.

While fome build castles in the air,
Direffers build them in the feas;
Strikers plainly fee them there,
For fools will fee as wife men please.
The oft' by mariners are shown

Unless the men of Kent are liars)
Ed Godwin's caftles overflown.
And palace-roofs, and steeple-spires.
Mark where the fly Directors creep,
Nor to the fhore approach too nigh!
The moniters nestle in the deep,
To feize you in your passing by.
Then, like the dogs of Nile, be wife,
Who, taught by inftinct how to fhun
The crocodile, that lurking lies

Run as they drink, and drink and rua.

Anteus could, by magie charms,
Recover ftrength when'er he fell;
Alades held him in his arms,
And fent him up in air to hell.

ders, thrown into the fea,
Recover ftrength and vigour there.;
may be tam'd another way,
Sufpended for a while in air.

Drafters! for 'tis yon I warn,

By long experience we have found
That plannet rul'd when you were born:
Weise you never can be drown'd.
Beware, nor over-bulky grow,
Nor come within your cully's reach;
, if the fea fhould fink fo low
To leave you dry upon the beach,
You'll owe your ruin to your bulk:
Your foes already waiting stand,
To tear you like a founder'd hulk,
While you lie helpless on the sand.
Tas, when a whale has loft the tide,
The coalters crowd to feize the spoil;
The moniter into parts divide,

And ftrip the bones, and melt the oil.
Oh! may fome western tempeft fweep
Thefe at whom our fruits have fed,
That plague Directors to the deep,

Driv'n from the Soutb-Sea to the Red!
May be, whom Nature's laws obey,
Who lifts the poor, and finks the proud,
Quiet the raging of the fea,

And fill the madness of the crowd!"

B never fhall our ifle have rest,
Till thofe devouring fwine run down,
The devils leaving the poffeft)
And headlong in the waters drown.
The nation then too late will find,
Computing all their coft and trouble,
Drew' promifes but wind,

Best-Sea at beft a mighty bullle,
VOL. IX.

THE DOG AND SHADOW.

ORE cibum portans catulus dum fpectat in undis,
Apparet liquido prædæ melioris imago:
Dum fpeciofa diu damna admiratur, et alte
Ad latices inhiat, cadit imo vortice præceps
Ore cibus, nec non fimulachrum corripit una.
Occupat ille avibus deceptis faucibus umbram;
Illudit fpecies, ac dentibus aëra mordet.

TO A FRIEND,

Who bad been much abused in many different Libels.

THE greatest monarch may be stabb'd by night,
And fortune help the murderer in his flight;
The vileft ruffian may commit a rape,
Yet fafe from injur'd innocence escape;
And calumny, by working under ground,
Can, unreveng'd, the greatest merit wound.
What's to be done? Shall wit and learning choose
To live obfcure, and have no fame to lofe?
By cenfure frighted out of honour's road,
Nor dare to ule the gifts by Heaven bestow'd?
Or fearless enter in through virtue's gate,
And buy distinction at the dearest rate?

BILLET TO THE COMPANY OF PLAYERS.

THE inclosed Prologue is formed upon the story of the Secretary's not fuffering you to act, unlefs you would pay him 300l. per annum ; upon which you got a licence from the Lord Mayor to act as trollers.

The Prologue fuppofes, that, upon your being forbidden to act, a company of country ftrollers came and hired the Playhouse, and your clothes, &c. to act in.

THE PROLOGUE.

OUR fet of strollers, wandering up and down,
Hearing the house was empty, came to town;
And, with a licence from our good Lord Mayor,
Went to one Griffith, formerly a player;
Him we perfuaded, with a moderate bribe,
To speak to Erlington and all the tribe,
To let our company fupply their places,

And hire us out their fcenes, and clothes, and faces.
Is not the truth the truth? Look full on me;
I am not Erlington, nor Griffith he.
When we perform, look fharp among our crew,
There's not a creature here you ever knew.
The former folks were fervants to the king;
We, humble strollers, always on the wing.
Now, for my part, I think upon the whole,
Rather than ftarve, a better man would ftroll.

Stay, let me fee-Three hundred pounds a year,
For leave to act in town! 'Tis plaguy dear.
Now. here's a warrant; Gallants, please to mark,
For three thirteens and fixpence to the clerk.
Three hundred pounds! Wer I the price to fix,
The public should bestow the actors fix.
A fcore of guineas, given underhand,
For a good word or fo, we understand.

D

To help an honeft lad, that's out of place,
May coft a crown or fo; a common cafe:
And, in a crew, 'tis no injuftice thought
To fhip a rogue, and pay him not a groat.
But, in the chronicles of f rmer ages,
Who ever heard of fervants paying wages?
I pity Erlington with all my heart;
Would he were here this night to act my part!
I told him what it was to be a stroller;
How free we acted, and had no comptroller :
In every town we wait on Mr. Mayor,
First get a licence, then produce our ware;
We found a trumpet, or we beat a drum;
Huzza! the (fchool-boys roar) the players are come!
And then we cry, to fpur the bumpkins on,
Gallants, by Tuesday next we must be gone.
I told him, in the fmootheft way I could,
All this and more, yet it would do no good.
But Erlington, tears falling from his cheeks,
He that has fhone with Betterton and Wilks,
To whom our country has been always dear,
Who chose to leave his dearest pledges here,
Owns all your favours, here intends to stay,
And, as a stroller, act in every play :
And the whole crew this refolution takes,
To live and die all ftrollers for your fakes;
Not frighted with an ignominious name,
For your displeasure is their only shame.

A pox in Elrington's majestic tone!
Now to a word of bufinefs in our own.

Gallants, next Thursday night will be our laft; Then, without fail, we pack up for Belfast. Lofe not your time, nor our diverfions mifs, The next we act shall be as good as this.

EPIGRAM.

GREAT folks are of a finer mold;
Lord! how politely they can fcold!
While a coarse English tongue will itch
For whore and rogue, and dog and bitch.

PROLOGUE

TO A PLAY FOR THE BENEFIT OF THE DISTRESSED WEAVERS, BY DR. SHERIDAN.

Spoken by Mr. Erlington, 1721.

GREAT cry and little wool-is now become
The plague and proverb of the weaver's loom :
No wool to work on, neither weft nor warp;
'Their pockets empty, and their fomach's fharp.
Provok'd, in loud complaints to you they cry:
Ladies, relieve the weavers, or they die!
Forfake your filks for ftuffs; nor think it strange
To fhift your clothes, fince you delight in change.
One thing with freedom I'll prefume to tell-
The men will like you every bit as well.

See, I am drefs'd from top to toe in stuff;
And, by my troth, I think I'm fine enough:
My wife admires me more, and fwears the never,
In any drefs, beheld me look fo clever.
And, if a man be better in fuch ware,
What great advantage muft it give the fair!
Our wool from lambs of innocence proceeds:
Silks come from maggots, callicoes from weeds:
Hence 'tis by fad experience that we find
Ladies in filks to vapours much inclin'd-
And what are they but maggots in the mind?

For which I think it reason to conclude
That clothes may change our temper like our food
Chintzes are gaudy, and engage our eyes
Too much about the party-colour'd dyes:
Although the luftre is from you begun,
We fee the rainbow, and neglect the fun.

How fweet and innocent's the country maid, With fmall expence in native wool array'd; Who copies from the fields her homely green, While by her fhepherd with delight fhe's feen! Should our fair ladies drefs like her in wool, How much more lovely, and how beautiful, Without their Indian drapery, they'd prove, Whilft wool would help to warm us into love! Then, like the famous Argonauts of Greece, We'd all contend to gain the Golden Fleece!

EPILOGUE BY THE DEAN.

SPOKEN BY MR. GRIFFITH.

Who dares affirm this is no pious age,
When charity begins to tread the ftage?
When actors, who, at beft, are hardly favers,
Will give a night of benefit to Weavers?
Stay-let me fee, how finely will it found!
Imprimis, From his Grace an hundred pound.
Peers, clergy, gentry, all are benefactors;
And then comes in the item of the actors.
Item, The actors freely gave a day-
The Poet had no more who made the play.

But whence this wondrous charity in players They learnt it not at Sermons, or at Prayers: Under the rofe, fince here are none but friends, (To own the truth) we have some private ends. Since waiting-women, like exacting jades, Hold up the prices of their old brocades; We'll drefs in manufactures made at home, Equip our kings and generals at The Comb†. We'll rig from Meath-ftreet Egypt's haugh

queen,

And Antony fhall court her in ratteen.
In blue fballoon fhall Hannibal be clad,
And Scipio trail an Irish purple plaid.
In drugget dreft, of thirteen pence a yard,
See Philip's fon amidst his Perfian guard;
And proud Roxana, fir'd with jealous rage,
With fifty yards of crape fhall fweep the stage.
In fhort, our kings and princeffes within
Are all refolv'd this project to begin;
And you, our fubjects, when you here refort,
Muft imitate the fashion of the Court.

Oh! could I fee this audience clad in fluff, Though money's fcarce, we fhould have trad enough:

But chintz, brocades, and lace, take all away,
And scarce a crown is left to fee a play.
Perhaps you wonder whence this friendship fpring
Between the Weavers and us Play-houfe Kings:
But Wit and Weaving had the fame beginning;
Pallas first taught us Poetry and Spinning:
And, next, obferve how this alliance fits,
For Weavers now are just as poor as Wits: