PA. (To PL.) Of all these excellent accomplishments Which would you chufe, fir, if you had the option?

PL. I would at leaft, my poor thanks could be equal To his deferts and yours, fince both of you,

I now experience, have concerning me
So much follicitude.-But, fir, it grieves me,
Th' expence I put you to. (To PER.

PER. You are a fool

Expence forfooth!-'tis true, upon an enemy,
Or a bad wife, whatever you lay out,
'That is expence indeed!-but on a friend,
Or a good gueft, all you expend is gain.
Blefs'd be the gods, that courtefey I have,
With hofpitality to treat a ftranger.

Eat, drink, and ufe your pleafure with me; load
Yourself with merriment: my houfe is free,
I free, and I would have you use me freely :
I from my fortune might have ta'en a wife
Of the best family, and well-portion'd too:
But thank you-I'd not let into my house
A brawling, barking, curft fhe-cur.

PA. Quid ad illas artes optaffis, fi optio eveniat tibi? PL. Hujus pro meritis ut referri pariter poffit gratia, Tibique, quibus nunc me effe experior fummæ folicitudini. At tibi tanto fumptui effe mihi moleftum eft.

For, through the gods kind favour I may fay it,

PER. Morus es. Nam in mala uxore atque inimico fi quid fumas, fummus est: In bono hofpite atque amico quæftus, quod fumitur: Deum virtute, ut tranfeuntem hofpitio accipiam, eft apud

me comitas.

Es, bibe, animo obfequere mecum, atque onera te hilaritudine:

Liberæ funt ædis, liber fum autum ego, me uti volo libere.'
Nam mihi deum virtute dicam, propter divitias meas
Licuit uxorem dotatam genere fummo ducere.
Sed nolo mihi oblatratricem in ædis intromittere.

VOL. I.

N n

There

There follow fome very humorous defcriptions of wives in general, which are not inapplicable to the modern modes, and which poffibly may appear in a fu ture publication of your miscellany. I wish and hope, that very free criticifms on the undertaking may be communicated to your publifher; as I fhall improve by them either way, whether they refpect the tranflation or the original,

The TWO BUTTERFLIES,
A FABLE. By a LADY.

NCE on a fummer's golden day,
When Sox diffus'd his genial ray,

And nature offer'd at his farine

Her incenfe to the pow'r benign,

A Butterfly, the vaineft thing
That ever rose upon the wing,
Whofe colours fham'd the peacock's dye,
Rich as the rainbow in the sky,

Ranging the garden's flow'ry pride,

Perch'd on a gawdy fun-flow'r's fide.

A Butterfly of meaner race,

By chance poffefled the neighb'ring place,
Her wings of common ruffet brown,

A Butterfly of no renown.

The BEAUTY'S bofom fwell'd with pride;
Her glowing plumage stretching wide,

She
As BELLES are fometimes apt to do,
And thus with infolence befpake
The creature of a meaner make.

gave her head a tofs or two,

Hence

Hence dawdy, paltry thing, away,
You give my wings no room to play;
Muft fuch as thou pretend to be
Fit company for flies like Me,
A Butterfly of QUALITY?

Be gone, mean wretch, go flutter hence,
Your vifits are impertinence.

When ftrait to check her haughty pride,

The humbler infect thus reply'd,

"Yes

You are handfome, I am plain,

Yet why so infolent and vain ?

Whilft thro' the garden and the grove

I unmolested gaily rove,

Your beauty may be your undoing,
Charms have been known to haften ruin.
Let not mifguided affectation

Defpife a homely poor relation;
TO PHOEBUS you your beauty owe,
He might have made me beauteous too.
But plain and homely I'm content,

May never you your charms lament.

The BELLE, who, from her earliest youth
Had never heard one word of truth,
But compliments of love and duty,
The flattering homage to her beauty,
Picqued to the foul, with female pride,
Swell'd firft, and flounc'd, and then reply'd,

What, fhall fuch wretched, vulgar Creters
Of filthy, horrid, clumfy features,
Mechanic things, whom no one knows,
Presume to reason and suppose ?

Dareft thou pretend to preach to ME?
-PHOEBUS I care not for, nor Thee.

Then clapp'd her wings, and fled away,
To plan new conquefts for the day.
While PHOEBUS all enrag'd to fee
A creature of fuch vanity,

Her pride to humble and chaftife,
Directs a virtuofo's eyes

To where the giddy glittering thing
Was floating careless on the wing.
Ne'er had he feen a finer fly,
Her plumage of fo rich a dye!

The very infect which he fought;

He faw, admir'd, perfu'd, and caught.

What mercy then could beauty win!
Impal'd upon a murd'rous pin,
She utter'd in a dying groan,

This fad, too late, repentant moan.

Why did I treat, too idly vain,
Yon honeft fly with fuch difdain?
Her words, alas !, are all too true,
And beauty I have caufe to rue.
But for these fatal fpots of mine,
Curfe on the colours how they fhine!
I had not pin'd, unhappy fly,
To fate a Virtuofo's eye.

With her how gladly would I change,
That still the garden I might range;
But Oh! that happy pow'r's deny'd,
Juft is my fate the faid, and dy'd,
In the laft ftruggling gafp of breath,
Accufing beauty of her death,
Whilft fafe in her obfcure degree,
Unfought, unheeded, gay and free,
The other pass'd her easy days,
Provok'd no envy, if no praise.

Ye butterflies of human kind, For you the moral is defign'd.

Beauty's

Beauty's enchanting when allied

With modefty instead of pride,
While the coquettish flaunting fair

Oft finds her beauty but a fnare.

Written on the Fifth of November.

ACH fingle man's internal frame,

EAC

Which claims fuch admiration,

Appears to differ but in name,

From a well-order'd nation.

His head you'll call the king in course;
His fhoulders are both houses;

His arms the military force;

His legs the vulgar choufes ;

The learned we may call his heart ;
His guts the corporations;
And thus we've each material part,
That forms the plan of nations.

Whoe'er would fuch a state destroy,
With fnickerfnee uncivil;
Whoe'er with poifon would annoy,
(That nectar of the devil)

Whoe'er would ftrike a fecret flame,

From fcandal tinder-boxes,
To blow up any man's good name;
I call them all GUY FAUXES.

X. Y.

Ta