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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.

CARDELIA. A lover lost, is but a common care; And prudent nymphs against that change prepare; The Knave of CĪubs thrice lost: Oh who could

guess This fatal stroke, this unforeseen distress?

SMILINDA.
See Betty Lovet! very a 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 tried;
Impartial, she shall say who suffers most,
By cards' ill usage, or by lovers lost.

LOVET.
Tell, tell your griefs; attentive will I stay,
Though 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:

Hazardia blushed, and turned her head aside,
A rival's envy (all in vain) to hide.
The 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;
Though 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.

But ah! what aggravates the killing smart, The cruel thought, that stabs me to the heart; This cursed 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. An awkward thing, when first she came to town; Her shape unfashioned, and her face unknown: She was my friend; I taught her first to spread Upon her sallow cheeks enliv’ning red: I introduced her to the park and plays; And, by my interest, Cozens made her stays. Ungrateful wretch, with mimic airs grown pert, She dares to steal my fav'rite lover's heart.

CARDELIA.
Wretch that I was, how often have I swore,
When Winnall tallied, I would punt no more?
I knew the bite, yet to my ruin run;
And see the folly, which I cannot shun.

SMILINDA. How many maids have Sharper's vows deceived ? How many cursed the moment they believed ? Yet his known falsehoods could no warning prove: Ah! what is warning to a maid in love?

CARDELIA.

But of what marble must that breast be formed, To gaze on basset, and remain unwarmed? When kings, queens, knaves, are set in decent rank. Exposed in glorious heaps the tempting bank, Guineas, half-guineas, all the shining train; The winner's pleasure, and the loser's pain: In bright confusion open rouleaux lie, They strike the soul, and glitter in the eye. Fired by the sight, all reason I disdain; My passions rise, and will not bear the rein. Look upon basset, you who reason boast; And see if reason must not there be lost.

SMILINDA. What more than marble must that heart compose, Can hearken coldly to my Sharper's vows? Then, when he trembles ! when his blushes rise! When awful love seems melting in his eyes! With eager beats his Mechlin cravat moves: “He loves,”—I whisper to myself, “He loves!” Such unfeigned passion in his looks appears, I lose all mem'ry of my former fears; My panting heart confesses all his charms, I yield at once, and sink into his arms: Think of that moment, you who prudence boast: For such a moment, prudence well were lost.

CARDELIA.
At the Groom-porter's,' battered bullies play,
Some dukes at Mary-bone bowl time away.
But who the bowl or rattling dice compares
To basset's heavenly joys, and pleasing cares?

SMILINDA.

Soft Simplicetta doats upon a beau: Prudina like a man, and laughs at show. Their several graces in my Sharper meet; Strong as the footmen, as the master sweet.

1 At the palace.

LOVET.
Cease your contention, which has been too long;
I grow impatient, and the tea's too strong.
Attend, and yield to what I now decide;
The equipage shall grace Smilinda's side:
The snuff-box to Cardelia I decree,
Now leave complaining, and begin your tea.

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In beauty, or wit,

No mortal as yet
To question your empire has dared:

But men of discerning

Have thought that in learning,
To yield to a lady was hard.

Impertinent schools,

With musty dull rules,
Have reading to females denied;

So Papists refuse

The Bible to use,
Lest flocks should be wise as their guide.

III.

'Twas a woman at first

(Indeed she was curst)
In knowledge that tasted delight,

And sages agree

The laws should decree
To the first possessor the right.

1 Daughter of the Duke of Kingston, born 1690: a woman of great genius, but very eccentric. Her letters equal Madame de Sevigné's; she lived to a great age, chiefly abroad. She had married Mr. Montagu, and accompanied him on his Embassy to Constantinople; after his recall she lived at Twickenham. Lady Mary introduced innoculation into England. Her daughter married Lord Bute, tho favourite minister of George III,

IV.

Then bravely, fair dame,

Resume the old claim,
Which to your whole sex does belong;

And let men receive,

From a second bright Eve,
The knowledge of right and of wrong.

But if the first Eve

Hard doom did receive,
When only one apple had she,

What a punishment new

Shall be found out for you,
Who tasting, have robbed the whole tree?

EXTEMPORANEOUS LINES, ON THE PIC

TURE OF LADY MARY W. MONTAGU. BY KNELLER. FROM DALLAWAY'S LIFE OF LADY M. W. M. THE playful smiles around the dimpled mouth, That happy air of majesty and truth; So would I draw (but oh! 'tis vain to try, My narrow genius does the power deny;) The equal lustre of the heavanly mind Where ev'ry grace with ev'ry virtue's joined; Learning not vain, and wisdom not severe, With greatness easy, and with wit sincere; With just description show the work divine, And the whole princess in my work should shine.

EPIGRAM.
FROM A LETTER TO A LADY MARY WORTLEY MONTAGU.
Hic jacet immiti consumptus morte Tibullus,
Mesalam, terra dum sequiturque mari.

Here stopt by hasty death Alexis lies,
Who crost half Europe, led by Wortley's eyes.

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