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Ye ladies, too, draw forth your pen;
pray, where can the hurt lie?
have brains as well as men,
Now, Tonson, list thy forces all,
Review them and tell noses :
A strange metamorphosis;
A metamorphosis more strange
Than all his books can vapour-
Quoth Sandys, “ To waste paper.”
UMBRA. (Curll says this character was intended to ridicule a very worthy gentleman,
probably Ambrose Philips.) CLOSE to the best known author UMBRA sits, The constant index to old Button's wits. “Who's here?” cries Umbra: “Only Johnson'.”—“O! Your slave," and exit; but returns with Rowe: “Dear Rowe, let's sit and talk of tragedies :" Ere long Pope enters, and to Pope he flies. Then up comes Steele: he turns upon his heel, And in a moment fastens upon Steele; But cries as soon, “Dear Dick, I must be gone, For, if I know his tread, here's Addison.” Says Addison to Steele, “'Tis time to go :" Pope to the closet steps aside with Rowe. Poor Umbra, left in this abandon'd pickle, E'en sits him down, and writes to honest Tickell.
Fool! 'tis in vain from wit to wit to roam ; Know, sense like charity “ begins at home.”
i Charles Johnson, a second-rate dramatist, and great frequenter of Button's. Pope elsewhere classes him with Philips :
“ Lean Philips and fat Johnson.” Farewell to London.-Bowles.
SYLVIA, A FRAGMENT.
SYLVIA my heart in wondrous wise alarm’d,
-y at a ball : Now deep in Taylor, and the Book of Martyrs, Now drinking citron with his Grace and Chartres.
Men, some to business, some to pleasure take; But every woman's in her soul a rake. Frail, feverish sex ; their fit now chills, now burns: Atheism and superstition rule by turns ; And a mere heathen in the carnal part, Is still a sad good Christian at her heart'.
TO LADY WINCHELSEA.
OCCASIONED BY FOUR SATIRICAL VERSES ON WOMEN WITS, IN THE
RAPE OF THE LOCK.
In vain you boast poetic names of yore,
i I have been informed, on good authority, that this character was designed for the then Duchess of Hamilton.-Warton.
Swift describes this lady as handsome, airy, and violent tempered, with abundance of wit and spirit. See Swift's Works, vol. iii. p. 118.—Sir W. Scott.
Of all examples by the world confess'd,
A BISHOP by his neighbours hated
ON THE FEUDS ABOUT HANDEL AND BONONCINI.
STRANGE! all this difference should be
ON MRS. TOFTS,
A CELEBRATED OPERA-SINGER.
So bright is thy beauty, so charming thy song,
along : But such is thy avarice, and such is thy pride, That the beasts must have starved, and the poet have
THE BALANCE OF EUROPE.
Now Europe balanced, neither side prevails ; For nothing's left in either of the scales.
APPLIED TO F. C.
HERE Francis Chartres lies'-be civil!
You beat your pate, and fancy wit will come: Knock as you please, there's nobody at home.
EPIGRAM FROM THE FRENCH.
Sir, I admit your general rule,
That every poet is a fool:
WELL then, poor G-- lies under ground !
So there's an end of honest Jack. So little justice here he found,
'Tis ten to one he'll ne'er come back.
Thus applied by Mr. Pope : “ Here lies Lord Coningsby.”
Few critics can unriddle :
from PASTRYCOOK it came,
From no trim beaux its name it boasts,
Gray statesmen, or green wits;
Of old cats and young KITS.
TO A LADY,
WITH THE TEMPLE OF FAME.
What's fame with men, by custom of the nation,
you with one, and I'll renounce the other.
ON THE COUNTESS OF BURLINGTON
Pallas grew vapourish once and odd;
She would not do the least right thing, Either for goddess or for god,
Nor work, nor play, nor paint, nor sing.
| The Kit-cat Club, which was the point of convivial union among the friends of the Hanoverian succession, was sometimes said to have derived its name from Christopher Kat, a pastry-cook, remarkable for the excellence of his twopenny pies. Others supposed it was from a cat and fiddle, the sign of the tavern. But the epigrammatist, with no very pregnant humour, derives it from their toasts, upon each of whom they wrote verses, which were engraved upon the glasses consecrated to the health proposed.- Sir W. Scott.