My Lady too might pique her grace With carriage stiff and formal face, Which, she deceiv'd, had taken care For some inferior to prepare ;

Or might some wretch from Lombard-street With greater ease and freedom meet,

Than sense of honour will admit

Between my Lady and a Cit.

Those evils wisely to prevent,

And root out care and discontent,
Ev'ry gay smart, who rides behind,
With rose and bag in taste refin'd,
Must music fully understand,
Have a nice ear and skilful hand;
At ev'ry turn be always found,
A perfect connoisseur in sound;
Thro' all the gamut skilful fly
Varying his notes, now low, now high,
According as he shifts his place;
Now hoarsely grumbling in the base,
Now turning tenor, and again
To treble raising his shrill strain ;
So to declare, where'er he be,
His master's fortune and degree,
By the distinguishing address
Which he'll upon the door express.

Thomas, whom I have nam'd before
As ringing at CECILIA's door,
Was perfect master of this art,
And vers'd alike in ev'ry part:
So that Cæcilia knew, before
Her footman came unto the door,
And in due form had told her so,
That Madam VENUS was below.
The doors immediate open flew,
The GODDESS, without more ado,
Displaying beauty's thousand airs,
Skim'd thro' the hall, and trip'd up stairs.
CECILIA met her with a smile

Of great delight, when all the while
If her false heart could have been seen,
She wish'd she had at Cyprus been.

But ladies, skill'd in forms and arts,
Don't in their faces wear their hearts,
And those above, like those below,
Deal frequently in outside show,
And always to keep up parade,

Have a smile by them ready-made.

The forms, which ladies when they meet

Must for good-manners' sake repeat,
As humble servant, how d'you do,

And in return, pray how are you?

Enrich'd at ev'ry proper space
With due integuments of lace,

As Madam, Grace, and Goddesship,
Which we for brevity shall skip,
Happily past, in elbow-chair

At length our ladies seated are.

Indiff'rent subjects first they chuse, And talk of weather and the news. That done, they sit upon the State, And snarl at the decrees of fate, Invectives against Jove are hurl'd, And They alone should rule the world, Dull politics at length they quit, And by ill-nature shew their wit; For hand in hand, too well we know, These intimates are said to go, So that where either doth preside T'other's existence is implied. The man of wit, so men decree, Must without doubt ill-natur'd be; And the ill-natur'd scarce forgets To rank himself among the wits. Malicious VENUS, who by rote Had ev'ry little anecdote, And most minutely could advance Each interesting circumstance,

Which unto all intrigues related,
Since Jupiter the world created,
Display'd her eloquence with pride,
Hinted, observ'd, enlarg'd, applied;
And not the reader to detain
With things impertinent and vain,
She did, as ladies do on earth
Who cannot bear a rival's worth,
In such a way each tale rehearse
As good made bad, and bad made worse.
CECILIA too, with saint-like air,
But lately come from evening pray'r,
Who knew her duty, as a saint,

Always to pray, and not to faint,

And, rain or shine, her church ne'er mist,

Prude, devotee, and methodist,

With equal zeal the cause promoted,

Misconstru'd things, and words misquoted,
Misrepresented, misapplied,

And, inspiration being her guide,
The very heart of man dissected,
And to his principles objected.
Thus, amongst us, the sanctified,
In all the spirituals of pride,
Whose honest consciences ne'er rested,
Till, of carnalities divested,

They knew and felt themselves t' inherit A double portion of the spirit:

Who from one church to t'other roam,
Whilst their poor children starve at home,
Consid'ring they may claim the care

Of Providence, who sent them there,
And therefore certainly is tied
To see their ev'ry want supplied;

Who unto preachers give away,
That which their creditors should pay,
And hold that chosen vessels must
Be generous before they're just,

And that their charity this way

Shall bind o'er Heaven their debts to pay,
And serve their temp'ral turn, no doubt,
Better than if they'd put it out,
Whilst nought hereafter can prevent,
Their sure reward of cent. per cent.
Who honest labour scorn, and say
None need to work who love to pray,
For Heav'n will satisfy their cravings,
By sending of Elijah's ravens,
Or rain down, when their spirits fail,

A dish of manna, or a quail;

Who from Moorfields to Tottenham Court

In furious fits of zeal resort,