Miscellanies
in
Prose
and
Verse.

By Miss Mary Jones.

Oxford
Printed; and delivered by Mr. Dodsley in Pall-Mall, Mr.
Clements
in Oxford, and Mr. Frederick in Bath. 1750MDCCL.

a1r

To
Her Royal Highness
the
Princess Royal
and of
Orange

the Following Miscellanies
Already Distinguished by
Her Royal Highness’s Name
and Farther Indebted to
Her Royal Highness’s Favour
for the Addition Of
Her Illustrious Family
the House of Orange
Are
With the Profoundest Deference
and Gratitude
Inscribed
by


Her Royal Highness’s
Most Obliged
Most Obedient and
Most Humble Servant

the Author.

a1v a2r ( v )

Advertisement.

The following pieces, the produce of pure
nature only, and most of them wrote at a very
early age, stand so much in need of an apology for
their appearance in the world, that the author can
assure her readers, they would scarce have been
troubled with them upon any considerations of her
own. Her friends had often desired her to collect
something of this sort for the press; but the
difficulties, or, more properly, the dread of such an
undertaking, together with the respect she had for
them, the world, and herself, always kept such a
thought at the greatest distance imaginable. Nor
had she at length prevailed with herself to set
about so disagreeable a task, but for the sake of
a relation, grown old and helpless thro’ a series
of misfortunes; and whom she had no other methods
of effectually assisting. This her numerous
and generous subscribers have put it into her power
to do; and therefore she cannot but take this public
opportunity of giving them their share of the satisfaction;tisfaction; a2v ( vi )
as well as of acknowledging, in the most
respectful manner, the favour as done to herself.

As the success of the work is entirely submitted
to their candour, to plead the many disadvantages,
the almost perpetual interruptions that have attended
it, and last of all, the death of the dearest
and best of mothers, when it was near its publication,
would perhaps be unnecessary; but whatever
its fate may be, the vanity of the author will
have very little to answer for, since it will scarce
be read with greater reluctance than it was
printed. The poetry she can say nothing to; it
being quite accidental, that her thoughts ever
rambled into rhyme. And as to the letters, the
ladies to whom they are address’d having thought
proper to preserve them, is the best apology she can
make for them.

Some errors they will meet with of the press,
but many more, she fears, of the author.

b1r

Subscribers.


  • His
    Most Serene Highness
    the
    Prince of Orange,
    Hereditary Stadtholder,
    and
    Captain General of the United Provinces.

  • Her Royal Highness
    the Princess Royal, and of Orange.

  • His Serene Highness the Hereditary Prince of Nassau Orange.

  • Her Serene Highness
    the Princess Caroline of Nassau Orange.
b b1v xviii
  • A.

    • Her Grace the Duchess of St. Albans, royal paper.
    • The Right Hon. the Countess of Ancram, royal paper.
    • Sir John Abdy, Bart. Knight of the Shire for the County
      of Essex.
    • Sir Richard Atkins, Bart. royal paper.
    • Sir John St. Aubyn, Bart.
    • The Rev. Dr. Allen, Archdeacon of Middlesex, royal paper.
    • The Rev. Dr. Amphlett, Fellow of Worcester Coll. r.p.
    • Mrs. Archer, of Hanover-square, royal paper.
    • Miss Archer, royal paper.
    • Mr. Robert Armorer, of his Majesty’s Houshold.
    • John Allen, Esq; Apothecary to his Majesty’s Board of Works.
    • Rev. Mr. Aylmer, Rector of Camberwell.
    • Thomas Aubrey, Esq; of Bosthall.
    • Miss Arnold of Oxford.
    • Mrs. Tracy Atkins.
    • Henry Ashurst, Esq;
    • Mr. Nathaniel Atkinson.
    • Nathaniel Alcock, M.D. of Oxford, F. R. S..
    • Mrs. Atherton, of Tiverton.
    • Mr. Allen, of Oxford.
    • John Andrew, M. D. of Exeter.
    • John Atkins, Surgeon, of Dartmouth.
    • Rev. Mr. Acmouty, of St. Edmund’s Hall.
    • Edward Andrews, Esq; of Hill-House, near Bristol.
    • Mrs. Andrews.
    • Mr. De L’Angle, Student of Christ Church.
    • Rev. Mr. D’Aeth, B.C.L. of Wadham Coll.
    • Rev. James Allet, A.M. Chaplain to the Right Hon. the
      Earl of Uxbridge.
    • Mr. Gilbert Allex, of Camberwell.
    • Rev. Mr. Airson, Minor Canon of Canterbury.
    • Abraham b2r xiix
    • Abraham Atkins, Esq;
    • Miss Austin, of Canterbury.
    • Charles Alexander, Esq; of Doctors-Commons.
    • Mr. Audsley.
    • Mr. John Askew, of Queen’s Coll.
    • Miss Jane Arnold, of Corsham, Wilts.
    • Mr. Ash, of Trinity Coll.
    • John Ashurst, Esq; Student of Ch. Ch.
    • Mrs. Abraham.
    • Mrs. Airey, of Newcastle upon Tyne.
    • Mrs. Ashby, of Ledgers Ashby, Northamptonshire.
    • Mrs. Apthorp, of Eton.
    • Rev. Mr. Ashton, Fellow of Eton Coll.
    • Charles Amscot, Esq;
    • Rev. Mr. Andrew, M.A. Fellow of Exeter Coll.
  • B.

    • His Grace the Duke of Beaufort, royal paper.
    • Her Grace the Duchess of Beaufort, royal paper.
    • The Right Hon. Lord Vere Beauclerk, royal paper.
    • The Right Hon. Lord Henry Beauclerk, 5 books, royal paper.
    • The Right Hon. Lady Henry Beauclerk, 5 books, royal paper.
    • The Right Hon. Lord George Beauclerk, royal paper.
    • The Right Hon. Lady Viscountess Bateman, royal paper.
    • The Right Hon. Lady Elizabeth Bertie.
    • The Right Hon. Lady Camilla Bennnet.
    • The Right Rev. the Lord Bishop of Bristol, royal paper.
    • The Hon. Mr. Boyle, Student of Ch. Ch. royal paper.
    • Lady Bucke.
    • Sir William Bowyer, Bart. royal paper.
    • Lady Bowyer, royal paper.
    • William Bowyer, Esq;
    • Mrs. Bowyer.
    • Mrs. Frances Bowyer, royal paper.
    • b2 Mrs. b2v xiix
    • Mrs. Charlot Bowyer.
    • Captain Thomas Bowyer, royal paper.
    • Lieutenant Richard Bowyer.
    • Mrs. Julia Bowyer.
    • The Hon. William Burnaby, Esq; Capt. of his Majesty’s
      Navy.
    • Sir John Bosworth, Knt.
    • Samuel Bosworth, Esq; of Newgate-street.
    • Rev. Mr. Bosworth, Fell. of Oriel Coll.
    • The Rev. Dr. Brown, Master of University Coll. and Vice-
      Chancellor of the University of Oxford, royal paper.
    • The Rev. Dr. Barton, Canon of Ch. Ch. royal paper.
    • Mrs. Barton, royal paper.
    • Rev. Mr. Barton, Fellow of New Coll.
    • Rev. Mr. Barton, Fellow of Merton Coll.
    • Miss Barton.
    • The Rev. Dr. Bolton, Dean of Carlisle.
    • Mrs. Bolton.
    • The Rev. Mr. Burchet, Prebendary of Windsor.
    • Norris Bertie, Esq; Knight of the Shire for the County of
      Oxford, royal paper.
    • Mr. Bradshaw, of Soho-square, 3 books, royal paper, 2 small.
    • Mrs. Baron, of Windsor.
    • Richard Buckley, Esq; royal paper.
    • Mr. Perry Buckley, royal paper.
    • The Rev. Dr. Ballard, 2 books, royal paper.
    • Mrs. Dorothy Sarah Best, of Boxley, Kent.
    • Mrs. Brown, of Golden-square, royal paper.
    • Mrs. Eliz. Brown.
    • Samuel Baldwin, Gent. of Maiden-lane.
    • Mr. Samuel Baldwin, jun. 2 books.
    • Mr. William Bull, of the New River Office.
    • Rev. Mr. Betsworth, of University Coll.
    • Edward Bangham, Esq;
    • Mr. Barry, of his Majesty’s Theatre, royal paper.
    • Mrs. Bell.
    • Mrs. b3r xiiixi
    • Mrs. Bethel.
    • Edward Bayntun, Esq;
    • Mrs. Boothby.
    • William Battie, M.D. of Great Russel-street.
    • Miss Barkley.
    • Luke Benne, Esq;
    • ——Burgh, Esq;
    • Mrs. Booth, of Windsor, royal paper.
    • Henry Bainbrigg Buckeridge, Esq;
    • Rev. Thomas Bracken, M.A.
    • Mrs. Bradley, of Oxford.
    • Rev. Mr. Bowler, of Great Milton, I book, royal paper, 2 sm.
    • Rev. Mr. William Bowdry, of Reading.
    • Miss Beaver, of Oxford.
    • Coplestone War. Bampfylde, Esq;
    • Captain Birch.
    • Miss Bennet.
    • Mr. Brouche, of Watlington.
    • Stuckley Bayntun, Esq;
    • Mrs. Brownsmith.
    • Rev. Mr. John Burton, Fellow of Eton Coll.
    • Roger Bourchier, Esq; royal paper.
    • Mrs. Brown, of Oxford.
    • Mr Bourne.
    • The Rev. Edward Bentham, D.D. Fellow of Oriel Coll.
    • Luke Bennet, Esq;
    • Rev. Mr. Brent, Fellow of Pembroke Coll. and Rector of
      St. Aldate’s in Oxford.
    • George Baker, B.M. Fellow of King’s Coll. Cambridge.
    • Miss Bickley, of Langford.
    • Edward Blackit, Esq;
    • Rev. Mr. Ralph Brideoak, Rector of Abbot-stock, Devon.
    • James Barnard, Esq;
    • Mr. Maurice Barnard,of Threadneedle-street.
    • Mr. Thomas Le Breton,
    • Mr. John Beardwell, of Oxford.
    • Mr. b3v xivxii
    • Mr. Richard Bradgate, of Oxford.
    • Rev. Mr. Bedingfield, Vice-Principal of Hertford Coll.
    • Mr. Bruce, Student of Christ Church.
    • Captain Bembow, of Uxbridge.
    • Rev. Mr. Bradshaw, B.D. royal paper.
    • Miss Margaret Banks.
    • Rev. Mr. Bourchier, of Hertford.
    • Rev. Mr. Bruce.
    • Mr. Joseph Bullock, Postmaster of Merton Coll.
    • The Rev. Dr. Thomas Berdmore, Rector of Arston le
      Wall
      , Northamptonshire.
    • The Rev. Dr. Edward Berdmore, Fellow of St. John’s Coll.
    • The Rev. Dr. Daniel Burton, Chancellor of Oxford, r.p.
    • The Rev. Dr. Tho. Burton, Archdeacon of St. David’s, r.p.
    • Rev. Mr. Brereton, Fellow of All Souls Coll.
    • Rev. Mr. Blake, of Exeter.
    • Mr. George Ballard, of Magdalen Coll.
    • Miss Susanna Bridgman, of Aldgate, High-street.
    • Mrs. Blewit.
    • Mr. Bull, of Milk-street.
    • Richard Bateman, Esq; of Old Windsor, royal paper.
    • The Rev. Dr. Bristowe, Rector of St. Mary Staining.
    • Dr. John Bettesworth, of Doctors Commons, royal paper.
    • George Bell, Esq; F.R.S. of Red Lion-square, royal paper.
    • James Brockman, Esq; of Beachborough in Kent.
    • Mr. John Butler, Merchant, of London.
    • Mr. James Butler.
    • Rev. Mr. Duke Butler.
    • Mr. Berwick, Commoner of Lincoln Coll.
    • Mr. Bates, Commoner of University Coll.
    • John Blandy, Esq; of Kingston, Berks.
    • John Brune, Esq;
    • Francis Bernard, Esq;
    • Rev. Mr. Barret, of Ashford in Kent.
    • Mrs. Beresford.
    • Dr. Blackstone, Fellow of All Souls Coll.
    • Rev. b4r xvxiii
    • Rev. Mr. Bridle, Fellow of New Coll.
    • Hugh Bosvile, Esq; of Lancellan, Monmouthshire
    • Mrs. Bacheler, of Bristol.
    • Mrs. Bacheler,
    • Miss Bacheler, of Taunton.
    • Mrs. Boswell,
    • Isaac Baugh, Esq; of Bristol.
    • Mrs. Boycot.
    • Miss Barker.
    • Mrs. Bowles, of Pool.
    • Mr. James Buckingham, Sojourner of Exeter Coll.
    • Rev. Mr. Bryant, of Bryantston,
    • Rev. Mr. Bromfield, Rector of Bloxworth,
    • Charles Brune, Esq; of Plumber,
    • Thomas Bower, Esq; of Ewerne, Dorsetshire.
    • Mr. Bingham, of Bingham’s Melcombe,
    • Miss Barfoot, of Pool, royal paper.
    • William Bridges, Esq; of South Wales, royal paper.
    • Miss Rebecca Bell, of Greenwich.
    • Rev. Dr. Brickenden.
    • Mrs. Bigg.
    • Rev. Mr. Baker.
    • Rev. Phillip Brown, M.A. Fellow of Queen’s Coll.
    • Miss Berrow.
    • Mr. William Dottin Batten, of Queen’s Coll. 2 books.
    • Rev. Mr. Buckler, Fellow of All Souls Coll.
    • Mr. Burrell, B.A. Student of Christ Church.
    • Mr. Baxter, of Henrietta-street.
    • Mr. Bean, junior.
    • Mr. James Bandinell, of Winchester Coll.
    • Mr. Bulbeet, Gent. Com. of Corpus Christi Coll.
    • Miss Brent, of Bristol.
    • Rev. Mr. Bridges, Rector of Orlingbury,
    • Rev. Mr. Baker, Rector of Staverton, Northamptonsh
    • Miss Brooke of Oakley,
    • Rev. Mr. Bray, B.D. Fellow of Exeter Coll.
    • Hugh b4v xvixiv
    • Hugh Barker Bell, Esq; of Aylesbury.
    • Henry Langford Brown, Esq; of Combsatchfield, royal paper.
    • Mrs. Bew, of Oxford.
    • Miss Banks, of Stanton St. John’s.
    • Mr. John Barrett, of Oxford.
    • Mr. Bissell, Scholar of Brazen-Nose Coll.
  • C.

    • The Right Hon. the Earl of Chesterfield, royal paper.
    • The Right Hon. the Earl of Cholmondley, royal paper.
    • The Right Hon. the Countess Cowper, royal paper.
    • The Right Hon. Countess of Conningsby, royal paper.
    • The Right Hon. the Lord Viscount Cobham, royal paper.
    • The Right Hon. Lady Elizabeth Cecil, 2 books, I royal paper.
    • The Right Hon. Lady Henrietta Conyers.
    • The Hon. Mrs. Jane Conway.
    • The Hon. Mrs. Ann Conway.
    • The Hon. Mrs. Elizabeth Courtenay.
    • The Hon. Mrs. Cotes.
    • The Hon. Mrs. Chetwynd.
    • William Chetwynd Esq;
    • John Chetwynd, Esq; royal paper.
    • Mrs. Deborah Chetwynd, of Dover-Street.
    • Rev. Mr. Cotes, of Trinity Coll.
    • Rev. Mr. Edward Cotes.
    • Mrs. Elizabeth Cotes.
    • John Conyers, Esq;
    • Admiral Charles Cotterel.
    • Mrs. Charlot Clayton, royal paper.
    • William Champnies, Esq;
    • Mrs. Frances Clapham. of Boxley, in Kent.
    • Mr. John Charlton.
    • Charles Carey, Esq;
    • Mrs. Carr, of Twickenham, royal paper.
    • Mrs. c1r xviixv
    • Mrs. Clarke.
    • Mrs. Chambers
    • Miss Conybeare, of Oxford, royal paper.
    • Mrs. Cook, of Denham.
    • Mrs. Carbonell.
    • Mr. Isaac Collivoe, of Maiden-lane.
    • Captain Compton.
    • Mrs. Carew.
    • Mrs. Clarke, of Bloomsbury-square,
    • Miss Crooke, of Oxford, 2 books.
    • Miss Church.
    • Mrs. Cox.
    • Mrs. Cheeke, of Lincoln’s-Inn-Fields.
    • Mrs. Sarah Cheeke.
    • Mrs. Clarkson, of Marlborough-street, 4 books.
    • Lieutenant Col. Cockayne, of Bond-street, royal paper.
    • Rev. Mr. Cockayne, M.A.
    • The Rev. Dr. Conen, Fellows of St. John’s Coll.
    • Rev. Daniel Chadsley, L.L.B.
    • Mrs. Church.
    • Mrs. Cook. of Oxford.
    • Miss Joanna Coates, of Greenwich.
    • Mrs. Claxton.
    • Mr. Capper, of Balliol Coll.
    • Mrs. Rebecca Chambre, of Llanfoyst, Monmouthshire.
    • Rev. Dr. Cosserat, Fellow of Exeter Coll.
    • Mrs. Culley, of Oxford.
    • John Carew, Esq;
    • Richard Chester, Esq;
    • Charles Cocks, Esq; Member of Parliament for Rygate.
    • Mr. Caslon, Letter-Founder, of Chiswell-street, 6 books.
    • Mrs. Crutchley.
    • Rev. Mr. Fran. Champernowne, Rector of Dartington, Dev.
    • William Chadder, Esq; Mayor of Totnes.
    • Mr. George Carwithen, Fellow of Exeter Coll.
    • Miss Carne, of Oxford.
    • c Miss c1v xviiixvi
    • Miss Molly Carne, of Oxford.
    • John Carne, Esq; of Marcham, Berks.
    • Mr. John Carne, Commoner of Jesus Coll.
    • Rev. Mr. Coxeter, Student of Christ Church.
    • George Robert Carter, Esq; of Hasley.
    • ——Carter, M.D. of Canterbury.
    • Mr. Cooper, Fellow of All Souls Coll.
    • The Rev, Dr. Cholmley, Fellow of Magdalen Coll.
    • Mr. James Chauvel, of St. Alban’s-street.
    • Mrs. Chauvel, of the Strand, 3 books.
    • The Rev. Dr. Coxed, Warden of Winchester College,
      10 books.
    • The Rev. Dr. Cobden, Archdeacon of London.
    • Andrew Coltee Du Carel, Esq; of Doctors-Commons.
    • Philip Crespigney, Esq;
    • Claude Crespigney, Esq; of the South-Sea House.
    • Mr. John Castle, Surgeon, of Eltham in Kent.
    • Francis Clarke, Esq; of North-Weston.
    • Mrs. Coke, of Barham in Kent.
    • Mrs. Carter, of Deal.
    • Mrs. Cage, of Canterbury.
    • Mrs. Carver, Eckington, Derbyshire.
    • The Rev. Dr. Cowper, Chaplain in Ordinary to his Majesty,
      royal paper.
    • Rev. Mr. Coulson, Fellow of University Coll.
    • Mr. Cooksy, Fellow of Merton, Coll.
    • Richard Combe, Esq; of Bristol.
    • Rev. Mr. Camplin, of Brompton, Somersetshire.
    • Mrs. Camplin.
    • Rev. Mr. Camplin, Minor Canon of Bristol.
    • Mr. Will. Camplin, B.A. of Corpus Christi Coll.
    • Mr. Camplin, of Bristol.
    • Miss Polly Cleves, of Pool.
    • Rev. Mr. Culme, M.A. Fellow of Wadham Coll.
    • Miss Colson, of Frampton,
    • Miss Culme, of Studland, Dorsetshire.
    • Mrs. c2r xixxvii
    • Mrs. Combe, of Henley, Dorsetshire.
    • Mr. Chapman.
    • Ralph Congreve, Esq;
    • The Rev. Dr Church, Vicar of Battersea.
    • Mr. John Chester, of Queen’s Coll.
    • Robert Cann, Esq;
    • Mr. Thomas Collins.
    • Miss Cox.
    • Mr. Coham.
    • Rev. Mr. Cox.
    • Miss Catherine Case.
    • Mrs. Colombine.
    • Nathaniel Castleston, Esq; royal paper.
    • William Cook, Esq;
    • Mrs. Cox, of Stanford, Berks.
    • Richard Cheslyn, Esq;
    • Thomas Carter, Esq; of the Inner Temple.
    • Rev. Mr. Cawley, Rector of Dudcote, Berks.
    • Mr. Clay, Bookseller in Daventry.
    • Rev. Mr. Clendon, Fellow of Emanuel Coll. Cambridge.
    • Rev. Mr. Castleman, Prebendary of Bristol.
    • Gilbert Caldecot, Esq; royal paper.
    • Pierce Cornish, Esq;
  • D.

    • The Right Hon. the Earl of Dalkeith, royal paper.
    • The Right Hon. the Countess of Dalkeith, royal paper.
    • The Right Hon. the Earl of Dartmouth, royal paper.
    • The Right Hon. the Countess of Dysart.
    • The Hon. and Right Rev. the Lord Bishop of St. David’s,
    • royal paper.
    • The Hon. Mrs. Mary Digby.
    • Sir James Dashwood, Bart. Knight of the Shire for the
    • County of Oxford, royal paper.
    • The Rev. Dr. Derham, President of St. John’s Coll. 4 books,
    • royal paper.
    • c2 John c2v xxxviii
    • John Delmè, Esq;
    • Mrs. Delmè, of Grosvenor-square, royal paper.
    • Mrs. Dolliffe.
    • John Drummond, Esq;
    • Mrs. Drummond, royal paper.
    • Mrs. Katherine Dahl.
    • Mrs. Dry, royal paper.
    • Mr. Draper of Covent-garden, royal paper.
    • Henry Drax, Esq; royal paper.
    • Miss Dodemead, of Covent-garden.
    • James Douglas, Esq royal paper.
    • Mrs. Duvernet, of Leicester-fields.
    • John Day, Esq; Gentleman Commoner, of Queen’s Coll.
    • Mrs. Dormer, of Ayscott, Oxfordshire, royal paper.
    • Mrs. Devisme.
    • Mr. Frederick-William-Guy Dickens, of Ch. Ch. r. p.
    • Mrs. Daddo, of Tiverton.
    • Rev. Mr. Dickens, Student of Christ Church, and one of the
    • Proctors of the University of Oxford, royal paper.
    • Rev. Mr. Dobson, Student of Christ Church.
    • Rev. Mr. Dipple, of Egham.
    • Rev. Erasmus Dryden, B.D. Rector of Easthamsted, r. p.
    • Mr. Durel, Scholar of Pembroke Coll.
    • Mrs. Denison, of Oxford.
    • Mrs. Dixon, of Canterbury
    • Mrs. Denew, of St. Stephen’s Court, near Canterbury.
    • Mrs. Davis, of Tarllyn, Brecon.
    • Mr. John Dick, Merchant, royal paper.
    • Rev. Mr. Dry, Fellow of Merton Coll.
    • Mr. James Daltera, of Bristol.
    • Richard Dayrell, Esq; of Lillingstone Dayrell, Bucks, r.p.
    • John Dalton, Esq; of Shaston, Dorsetshire.
    • Mr. William Dallaway, of Bretuscomb, Gloucestershire.
    • Miss Patty Durell, of Pool.
    • Rev. Mr. Stanton Degg, 2 books.
    • Mrs. Devall, of Flower, Northamptonshire.
    • William c3r xxixix
    • William Draper, Esq; of Adscomb, Surry, royal paper.
    • William-Whorwood A’Deane, Esq; of Charlgrove, Oxf.
    • William Daniel, Esq;
    • Miss Dove, of Newcastle upon Tyne.
    • Miss Disney, of Cranbrook in Kent.
    • Dr. Dinham, of Harborough, Leicestershire.
    • Rev. Mr. Darch, M.A. Fellow of Balliol Coll.
    • Rev. Mr. Dockwray.
    • Miss Dewe, of Ensham, Oxfordshire.
    • Mrs. Draper, of Newbury.
    • Mr. John Davie, Scholar of Balliol Coll.
  • E.

    • The Right Hon. Lady Charlotte Edwin, royal paper.
    • Sir John Elwell, Bart.
    • Mrs. East, royal paper.
    • Mrs. Katherine Edwin, royal paper.
    • Mrs. Ewer, of North Audley-street, royal paper.
    • Mrs. Ewers, of Bottesford.
    • Mrs. Eyres, of Surrey-street.
    • Rev. Mr. Evans, of Covent-garden.
    • Rev. Richard Eyres, B.D. royal paper.
    • Mr. Eaton, Fellow of Jesus Coll.
    • Rev. Mr. Evans, Rector of Langadock, Wales.
    • Rev. Mr. Edwards, Fellow of Jesus Coll.
    • Rev. Peter Ellice, B.D. Fellow of Jesus Coll.
    • Mr. John Eversman, of Oxford.
    • Mrs. Henrietta Egerton.
    • Rev. Mr. Robert Edwards, of St. John’s, Southwark.
    • Rev. Mr. Robert Ewings, Fellow of Exeter Coll.
    • Rev. Mr. Edowes, Rector of Broughton.
    • The Rev. Dr. Edgcumbe, late Rector of Exeter Coll.
    • Mrs. Eston.
    • Rev. John Egerton, L.L.B.
    • The c3v xxiixx
    • The Rev. Mr. Exton, Prebendary of Winchester.
    • Rev. Mr. Eustace, M.A. Vicar of Abergavenny.
    • Mrs. Erle, of Blanford, Dorsetshire.
    • The Rev. Dr. Ernly, Fellow of All Souls Coll.
    • Mrs. Barbara Ellison,
    • Miss Jenny Ellison, of Newcastle upon Tyne.
    • Miss Ellison, of Park House,
    • Miss Molly Ellison, Northumberland.
    • Miss Elizabeth Ellison,
    • Miss Eldridge, of Great Milton, Oxfordshire.
    • Mr. Bickham Escott, Sojourner of Exeter Coll.
    • Rev. St. John Elliott, of Cornwall, 2 books.
  • F.

    • The Right Hon. Lord Viscount Fermanagh, royal paper.
    • The Right Hon. Lady Viscountess Fermanagh, royal paper.
    • The Right Hon. Lady Charlotte Finch.
    • The Right Hon. Lady Juliana Farmor.
    • The Right Hon. Lord Foley, royal paper.
    • The Right Hon. Mr. Vice Chamberlain Finch.
    • The Hon. Mrs. Fairfax.
    • Thomas Fisher, Esq; of Whitehall, royal paper.
    • Mr. Thomas Farraine.
    • Mr. Finch, of Covent-garden.
    • Thomas Fanshaw, Esq; of Pallmall.
    • Charles Frewen, Esq;
    • Mr. Thomas Fownes, B.A. of Queen’s Coll.
    • Miss Forester, of Oxford.
    • Mrs. Frewen, of Oxford, royal paper.
    • Mr. Forrester, Student of Christ Church.
    • Mrs. Fox.
    • Mrs. Foley, of Hereford.
    • Mrs. Frederick, of Leicester Fields.
    • Mr. Henry Fisher, M.A. of Jesus Coll.
    • Miss Fuller.
    • Mrs. c4r xxiiixxi
    • Mrs. Foster, of Hanover-square, royal paper.
    • Henry Faure, Esq; of Egham.
    • Mrs. Mary Foreman, of Epsom.
    • The Rev. Dr. Fothergill, royal paper,
    • Rev. Mr. Thomas Fothergill, M.A. Fell. of Queen’s Coll.
    • Mrs. Fazakerly of Lincoln’s Inn Fields, royal paper.
    • Rev. Mr. Butler Fenton.
    • Rev. Mr. Forster, Fellow of University Coll.
    • The Rev. Thomas Fry, D.D. Fellow of St. John’s Coll.
    • Mrs. Eliz. Faucet.
    • The Rev. Dr. Fortescue, Fellow of Exeter Coll.
    • Gorges Foyll, Esq;
    • Mr. Thomas Farr, of Bristol.
    • Mrs. Forest
    • Mrs. Fanshawe.
    • Mrs. Farrer, of Brampton,
    • Miss Freeman, of Flower, Northamptonshire.
    • Miss Ann Freeman,
    • Rev. Mr. Fleetwood.
    • Mrs. Foley.
    • Thomas Ford, Esq; of Aldermanbury.
    • Mr. Fenwick,
    • Mrs. Fenwick, of Bywell, Northumberland.
    • Miss Fenwick,
    • Mrs. Fenwick, of Newcastle upon Tyne.
    • Mr. Ferinhough, of Newcastle Underline.
    • The Rev. Dr. Fanshawe, Canon of Christ Church, and
      Regius Professor of Divinity, 2 books, royal paper.
    • Rev. Mr. Fowel, M.A. Fellow of Exeter Coll.
  • G.

    • The Right Hon. The Earl of Granville.
    • The Right Hon. Earl Gower, royal paper.
    • The Right Hon. Lady Viscountess Gage.
    • The c4v xxivxxii
    • The Hon. Mrs. Granville.
    • Lady Gresham, royal paper.
    • The Rev. Dr. Green, Fellow of St. John’s Coll. 2 books, r.p.
    • Dr. John Green, of Greenwich, 2 books, royal paper.
    • George Gibson, Esq; of Whitehall, royal paper.
    • The Rev. Edmund Gibson, M.A. Precentor of St. Paul’s, r.p.
    • The Rev. William Gibson, D.D. Archdeacon of Essex, r.p.
    • Rev. Rob. Gibson, M.A. Rector of St. Magnus, royal paper.
    • Mr. Graham, of Golden-square.
    • Mr. Grubb.
    • Mr. Edward Grubb.
    • Miss Goodison, of Long Acre, royal paper.
    • David Garrick, Esq; royal paper.
    • Mr. Gunter, of Covent-garden.
    • Mrs. Gore, of Devonshire-street.
    • Thomas Gore, Esq; royal paper.
    • Edward Gore, Esq;
    • ——Gaylard, Esq;
    • Rev. Mr. Griesly, M.A.
    • Mrs. Graine,
    • Mr. Green, of Oxford.
    • Mr. Godfrey,
    • The Rev. Dr. Gower, Provost of Worcester Coll. royal paper.
    • Mr. John Glubb, B.A. of Exeter Coll.
    • Mrs. Gosling.
    • Mrs. Gibberd.
    • Mrs. Gibson, of Oxford, royal paper.
    • William Gore, Esq;
    • Rev. Mr. Griffith, M.A. Fellow of Pembroke Coll.
    • Mrs. Nab. Gubbins, of Kinsale, Ireland.
    • Mrs. Gataker of Park Place, St. James’s.
    • The Rev. Dr. Geekie, Prebendary of Canterbury.
    • Rev. Mr. Gregory, Vicar of North Elmham.
    • Mrs. Gregory, of Uley,
    • Miss Gregory, Gloucestershire.
    • Rev. Mr. Gregory, Minor Cannon of Canterbury.
    • Mrs. d1r xxvxxiii
    • Mrs. Gregory,
    • Mr. Le Geyt, of Canterbury.
    • Mrs. Le Geyt,
    • Mrs. Godschall, 3 books.
    • Miss Godschall, 3 books.
    • Mrs. Giffard, of Neuffield, Berks.
    • Mrs. Goldsborough, of Bruton, Somersetshire.
    • Mrs. Gardiner, of Henbury, near Bristol.
    • Rev. Mr. Gresly, Chaplain of Wadham Coll.
    • Mrs. Gordon, of Bristol.
    • Miss Goodding.
    • Francis Gashry, Esq;
    • Miss Galpine, of Blandford.
    • Miss Thomasin Galpine.
    • Mr. Glover.
    • John Greenway, Esq; of Oxford.
    • Rev. Mr. Giffard, Rector of Cle-haydon, Devon.
    • Miss Giffard.
    • Edward Goddard, Esq;
    • Miss Ann Golding.
    • Rev. Mr. Golding, Fellow of New Coll.
    • Miss Gyde, of Gloucestershire.
    • Miss Gwatkin.
    • James Gilpin, Esq; of Oxford.
    • Charles Gould, Esq; Student of Christ Church.
    • Mr. Groves, of Richmond.
    • Francis Gwyn, Esq; Member of Parliament for Wells.
    • Mrs. Gwyn.
    • William Goodwin, Esq;
    • Bernard Granville, Esq; of Park-street, 2 books, royal paper.
    • Mr. James Gunter.
    • Mr. Gower, Fellow of Brazen-Nose Coll.
    • Mrs. Greenhalf, of Bourton, Oxfordshire, royal paper.
    • Miss Gibbs, royal paper.
    • Mr. Glass, Surgeon, of Oxford, 2 books.
    • d The d1v xxvixxiv
    • The Right Hon. the Countess of Harcourt.
    • The Right Hon. the Countess of Hertford, royal paper.
    • The Right Hon. and Right Rev. the Lord Bishop of Hereford,
      royal paper.
    • The Right Hon. Lady Viscountess Howe, royal paper.
    • The Right Hon. Lady Mary Howard, royal paper.
    • The Right Hon. Lady Patty Harley.
    • The Hon. Robert Harley, Esq; sen.
    • The Hon. Robert Harley, Esq; jun.
    • The Hon. John Harley, Esq;
    • The Hon. Mrs. Herbert, royal paper.
    • The Hon. Thomas Howard, of Astead.
    • The Rev. Sir Philip Hoby, Bart.
    • Sir John Honywood, Bart. royal paper.
    • William Harvey, Esq; Knight of the Shire for Essex, r.p.
    • The Rev. Dr. Hodges, Provost of Oriel Coll.
    • Mrs. Hodges.
    • Edmund Herbert, Esq;
    • George Hay, L.L.D. royal paper.
    • Miss Huddon, royal paper.
    • Mrs. Judith Hoskins, of Red Lyon-square, royal paper.
    • Mrs. Mary Hoskins, royal paper.
    • Miss Katherine Hoskins, royal paper.
    • ——Hoskins, Esq; royal paper.
    • Mr. Hull, Apothecary, of the Strand.
    • Mrs. Humphries, of Oxford.
    • Miss Humphries, of Pall-Mall.
    • Mr. Francis Humphries, Student of Hertford Coll.
    • ——Hall, Esq; of the Temple, 2 books, royal paper.
    • Mrs. Hinchliff, of Covent-garden.
    • Mrs. Haywood.
    • Mrs. d2r xxviixxv
    • Mrs. Harris, of Eton.
    • Mrs. Hooker, of Greenwich.
    • Rev. Mr.—Harris, Gent. Commoner of Exeter Coll.
    • The Rev. Dr. Hunt, Canon of Christ Church, and Professor
      of the Heb. and Arab. Languages; 6 books, I royal paper.
    • Mr. Hotchings, of Lincoln Coll.
    • Mrs. Margaret Hanbury, of Llanfoyst, Monmouthshire.
    • Philip Henshaw, Esq; of Bussock, Berks.
    • Mr. Henshaw.
    • Mr. Phocion Henley, B.A. of Wadham Coll.
    • Mr. Benjamin Holland.
    • John Horn, Esq;
    • William Hammond, Esq;
    • Rev. Mr. Hewitt, M.A. Student of Christ Church.
    • Captain Head.
    • Mrs. Hargrave.
    • Mr. Thomas Hatrell,
    • Mrs. Mary Hatrell, of Newcastle Underline.
    • Rev. Mr. Harding.
    • The Rev. Dr. Hayward, Rector of Stanlake.
    • Rev. Mr. Hopkins, M.A. Chaplain of Christ Church.
    • Benjamin Heath, Esq; of Exeter, royal paper.
    • Rev. Mr. Holdsworth, of Dartmouth.
    • Rev. Mr. Harwood, Fellow of Merton Coll.
    • Rev. Mr. Hoare, B.D. Fellow of Jesus Coll. and Chaplain
      in Ordinary to his Royal Highness the Prince of Wales.
    • Rev. Mr. Holloway, Rector of Bladen and Woodstock.
    • Rev. Mr. Holwell, M.A. Student of Christ Church, r.p.
    • Mrs. Haywood.
    • Rev. Mr. Haly, M.A. of Hertford Coll.
    • The Rev. Dr. Hind, Student of Christ Church.
    • The Rev. Dr. Head, Archdeacon of Canterbury.
    • Mrs. Hardres,
    • Mrs. Frances Holcombe, of Canterbury.
    • Rev. Mr. Hayman, B.A. of Queen’s Coll.
    • William Heywood, Esq; of Crouchley Park, royal paper.
    • d2 Thede d2v xxviiixxvi
    • Thede Heywood, Esq;
    • Mrs. Heywood, royal paper.
    • The Rev. Dr. Holdsworth, Rector of Chalfont.
    • George Hunt, Esq; of Sackville-street.
    • Rev. Mr. Henry Hammond.
    • Rev. Mr. William Holford, Lecturer of Camberwell, r.p.
    • Mr. Richard Holford, Attorney at Law, royal paper.
    • Mr. Holmes, of University Coll.
    • Rev. Mr. Hawkins, Rector of Kingsnorth in Kent.
    • Miss Hall, of Canterbury.
    • Frances Huchenson, Esq;
    • Rev. Mr. Harris, Vicar of Llantrissent, Glamorganshire.
    • Miss Harris.
    • The Rev. Dr. Hutchins, Fellow of Lincoln Coll.
    • Mr. Hibbs, of Bristol.
    • Mrs. Hay, of Hartrow, Somersetshire.
    • Mrs. Mary Hay.
    • John Harrington, Esq;
    • Miss Holden, of Oxford.
    • Mr. Thomas Hyde, of Pool.
    • Rev. Mr. Henning, Rector of Warmwell, Dorsetshire.
    • Mr. Harris, Surgeon, 2 books.
    • Miss Heasman, of Cookfield, Sussex.
    • James Hayes, jun. Esq;
    • Rev. Mr. Howard.
    • Mrs. Holbrow, of Gloucestershire.
    • Miss Eliz. Holbrow.
    • Miss Harris, of Wotton, Oxfordshire.
    • The Rev. Dr. Hume, Residentiary of St. Paul’s.
    • Mrs. Hume, royal paper,
    • Mr. Nathanael Hume, of Oxford.
    • Rev. Mr. Howell, Fellow of Pembroke Coll.
    • Rev. Mr. Hill, Rector of Chilton Canteloe, Somersetshire.
    • Mrs. Hindmarsh, of Newcastle upon Tyne.
    • Mrs. Frances Hunt,
    • Mrs. Dorcas Hunt, of Chester.
    • Mrs. d3r xxixxxvii
    • Mrs. Hatt, of Lachamsted, Berks.
    • Eliab Harvey, Esq;
    • Thomas Hunt, Esq; of the Inner Temple.
    • Mr. John Haines, Commoner of Pembroke Coll.
    • Rev. Mr. Hill, M.A. of Balliol Coll.
    • Mr. Howel, of Ensham, Oxfordshire.
    • Miss Ann Hale,
    • Miss Hilman, of Devonshire.
    • Mr. Henry Harrington, B.A. of Queen’s Coll.
    • Rev. Mr. Horndon, M.A. Fellow of Exeter Coll.
    • Mr. James Head, Attorney at Law, of Newbury.
    • George Heneage, Esq;
    • Mrs. Heneage.
    • Mr. William Hayes, of Oxford, 2 books.
    • Mr. John Heskyn, B.A. Student of Ch. Ch.
    • Mr. Thomas Hewgoe, Scholar of Balliol Coll.
  • I.

    • The Right Hon. Lady Viscountess Irwin.
    • Lady Irby.
    • The Rev. Eusebius Isham, D.D. Rector of Lincoln Coll.
    • Mrs. Vere Isham.
    • Mrs. Edmunda Isham.
    • Edward Jones, Esq;
    • Mrs. Jones.
    • Mr. Jones, Student of Christ Church.
    • Miss Jones, of St. James’s Place.
    • The Rev. Dr. Edward Jones, Rector of Aston Clinton.
    • Rev. Mr. John Jones, Fellow of Jesus Coll.
    • Mrs. Jones, of Oxford, royal paper.
    • Rev. Mr. Jones, M.A. Precentor of Christ Church, r.p.
    • Mr. John Jones, of Red Lion-square.
    • Mr. Jones, of the Custom-house.
    • Rev. Mr. Jones, of Fakenham.
    • Mr. Edward Jones.
    • Rev. d3v xxxxxviii
    • Rev. Mr. Jenkin.
    • Mrs. James.
    • Mr. Jackson, of Cursitor-street, 2 books.
    • Rev. Mr. Thomas Jones, M.A. Fellow of Jesus Coll.
    • Mrs. Jagger, of Oxford.
    • Rev. Mr. Jane, M.A. Student of Christ Church.
    • Benjamin James, Esq;
    • Rev. Mr. Jubb, Student of Christ Church.
    • Mrs. Jarvis.
    • William Ives, Esq; of Oxford.
    • Rev. Mr. Johnson, Vicar of St. Dunstan’s, Canterbury.
    • Mrs. Johnson.
    • Esco Jackson, Esq; of Bush-lane.
    • Miss Ingoldsby.
    • Mrs. Inglish, of the Strand, 2 books.
    • Samuel Ingram, Esq;
    • Miss Mary Johnson, of Canterbury.
    • William Jenkins, Esq; of Abergavenny.
    • Rev. James Ibbetson, B.D. Rector of Bushey.
    • Mr. Jennings, Fellow of Merton Coll.
    • Miss Jones, of Frodsham, Cheshire.
    • Miss Molly Johnstone,
    • Miss Sophia Johnstone, of Drayton, Oxfordshire.
    • Mr. Johnstone, of Newgate-street, 2 books, royal p. 4 small.
    • Mrs. Jemmitt, of Bicester.
    • Rev. Mr. Jemson, Vicar of Weeden, Northamptonshire.
    • Mrs. Jackson, of Donhead, Wilts.
    • Mr. Jackson, of Oxford.
  • K.

    • The Right Hon. Lady Susan Keck, 2 books, royal paper.
    • The Hon. Mrs. Knight, 10 books, royal paper.
    • The Hon. Mrs. Kingdom.
    • Edward Kingdom, Esq; of Englefield Green, royal paper.
    • Rev. Arnold King, L.L.B.
    • Mr. d4r xxxixxix
    • Mr. Kelsey, of Compton-street, royal paper.
    • Mr. William Kinleside.
    • Rev. Mr. Kennicott, M.A. Fell. of Exeter Coll. royal paper.
    • Rev. Mr. Kilner, M.A. Fellow of Merton Coll.
    • Rev. Mr. King, M.A. of St. Mary Hall.
    • Rev. Mr. Kipling, M.A. of Thame.
    • The Rev. Dr. Kemp, Rector of St. Michael’s, Crooked-lane.
    • Mrs. Knox, of Norfolk-street.
    • Mrs. Kinnersley, of Loxley, Staffordshire.
    • Mrs. Kein, of Kensington.
    • Mrs. Keyt.
    • Anthony Keck, Esq; of Twickenham.
    • Miss Knight.
    • Mr. Edward King, of Oxford.
    • The Rev. William Knowler, L.L.D. Rector of Bodington,
      Northamptonshire.
    • Francis Knollys, Esq; of Thame, 2 books, royal paper.
    • Rev. Mr. Joshua Kyte, M.A. Student of Ch. Ch.
  • L.

    • Her Grace The Duchess of Leeds.
    • The Right Hon. The Earl of Litchfield, royal paper.
    • The Right Hon. Lady Lovelace, 2 books, royal paper.
    • The Hon. Mrs. Lee.
    • The Hon. Miss Lyddel, royal paper.
    • The Hon. George Lyttelton, Esq; 2 books, royal paper.
    • Sir William Lee, Bart. royal paper.
    • Sir William Lowther, Bart. royal paper.
    • The Rev. Mr. Lowth, Archdeacon of Winchester, and
      Poetry Professor at Oxford, 2 books.
    • —Lawson, M.D. of Soho-square.
    • Rev. Mr. Letsome.
    • Thomas Lupton, jun. Esq;
    • Mr. John Longden.
    • Peter Leigh, Esq; High Bayliff of Westminster.
    • John d4v xxxiixxx
    • John Lloyd, Esq; of Shrewsbury.
    • Mrs. Lee, of Norfolk-street.
    • Rev. Mr. John Lloyd, of Shrewsbury.
    • Mr. Locke, Student of Christ Church.
    • The Rev. Dr. Long, Rector of Chievely, Berks.
    • Rev. Mr. Long, Student of Christ Church.
    • Miss Lea, of Bussock, Berks.
    • Mr. Lewis of Christ Church.
    • Joseph Langton, Esq;
    • Richard Luther, Esq;
    • Mr. Lads, of Oxford.
    • Rev. Mr. Lye, Rector of Yerley Hastings, Northamptonshire.
    • Mrs. Lewis, of Brooke-street.
    • Rev. Mr. Langford, Fellow of Jesus Coll.
    • Mrs. Lampriere, of Hatton-Garden.
    • William Lewis, M.D. of Oxford.
    • Mrs. Elizabeth Lemon.
    • Edward Lovibond, Esq; of Bath.
    • Mr. Thomas Lee, of Addlestrop, Oxfordshire.
    • Mrs. Leigh of Canterbury.
    • Richard Lyster, Esq; Knight of the Shire for the County of
      Salop, royal paper.
    • Mrs. Low.
    • —Lowndes, Esq;
    • Rev. Mr. Lyson, Rector of Longworth, Berks.
    • Mrs. Lynch, of Canterbury, royal paper.
    • Rev. Mr. Lamprey, Minor Canon of Canterbury.
    • Miss Lewis, Of Penlyne, Glamorganshire,.
    • Miss Eleanor Lewis, of Abergavenny.
    • Rev. Francis Lewis, Rector of Langattock, Monmouthshire.
    • Rev. Mr. Lawghton, of Stafford Grove, Somersetshire.
    • Mrs. Lawrence.
    • Rev. Mr. Leach, of Piddletown, Dorsetshire.
    • Mrs. Loveday.
    • Mr. Lysons, Commoner of Oriel Coll.
    • Rev. Mr. Lloyd, Rector of Stowe nine Churches.
    • Mr. e1r xxxiiixxxi
    • Mr. Abraham Langford.
    • Erasmus Lewis, Esq; of Cork-street, royal paper.
    • John Levett, Esq; of the Inner Temple.
    • Rev. Mr. Lowry, M.A. Fellow of Queen’s Coll.
    • Miss Anna Lake, of Devon.
    • John Lansdell, Esq; of Newbury.
    • Mrs. Juliana Luscombe, of Comb, Devon.
    • John Lawrance, Esq; Gent. Commoner of Exeter Coll.
    • Mr. Robt. Lloyd, of Trinity Coll. Cambridge.
  • M.

    • Her Grace the Duchess of Marlborough, 2 books, royal paper.
    • The Right Hon. Lord Masham, 2 books, royal paper.
    • The Hon. Mrs. Masham, royal paper.
    • The Hon. John Maitland, Esq;
    • Sir John Moore, Bart. royal paper.
    • Sir Capel Molyneux, Bart. royal paper.
    • Lady Molyneux, royal paper.
    • Miss Molyneux, royal paper.
    • Richard Middleton, Esq; of Chirk Castle, Member of Parliament
      of Denbigh, royal paper.
    • Richard Morgan, Esq; of Dublin, royal paper.
    • Moses Mendes, Esq; royal paper.
    • William Macham, L.L.B. Fellow of St. John’s Coll.
    • Mrs. Marriott, late House-keeper of Windsor Castle, 2 books
      royal paper, 18 small.
    • Mrs. Marriott, of Took’s Court.
    • Mrs. Mein, of Wandsworth.
    • Mr. Metayer,
    • Miss Morgan, of Pallmall.
    • Miss Peggy Morgan,
    • The Rev. Dr. James Musgrave, 10 books, royal paper.
    • Thomas Musgrave, B.M. Fellow of St. John’s Coll.
    • Captain Morrice, royal paper.
    • e —Morley e1v xxxivxxxii
    • ——Morley, M.D. of Lincoln’s Inn Fields, 2 books.
    • George Milborne, Esq;
    • Mrs. Marten, of Windsor, royal paper.
    • ——Martin, Esq;
    • Mrs. Martin.
    • John Merrick, M.D. of Twickenham, 6 books.
    • Robert Monypenny, Esq;
    • Mrs. Eliz. Monypenny.
    • John Monro, M.D.
    • Rev. Mr. Monro, M.A. Fellow of Corp. Christ Coll.
    • Rev. Mr. William Moore, B.A. of Wadham Coll.
    • John Mallack, Esq;
    • John Macie, Esq;
    • Paul Methuen, Esq;
    • John Martin, Esq; of the Inner Temple, royal paper.
    • Mrs. Maycock, of Oxford.
    • Mr. Edward Marshall, Sojourner of Exeter Coll.
    • Mr. Thomas Mander, Fellow of Oriel Coll.
    • Henry Mander, Esq; of the Inner Temple.
    • John Mangey, Esq; of St. Mary Hall.
    • Rev. Morgan Morgan, B.A. of Jesus Coll. 2 books.
    • Rev. Mr. Mudge, M.A. of Pembroke Coll.
    • Edward Matthew, of Aberammon, Esq;
    • William LeMerchant, Esq; of Newbury.
    • James Le Merchant, B.D. Fellow of Jesus Coll.
    • Joshua Le Merchant, Scholar of Pembroke Coll.
    • Joshua Le Merchant, Esq; his Majesty’s Sollicitor in
      Guernsey.
    • Mrs. Mabbott, of Cassington, Oxfordshire, royal paper.
    • Sanderson Miller, Esq; of Radway, Warwickshire.
    • Mrs. Miller, royal paper.
    • Rev. Mr. Manning.
    • Wm. Midford, Esq; of Lovett’s Hill, Windsor Forest, r.p.
    • Mrs. Mayow, of Oxford.
    • Richard Mead, Esq. of Windsor, royal paper.
    • Lomax Martyn, Esq; of Lincoln’s Inn.
    • Mrs. Michell, of Gerard-street, royal paper.
    • Rev. e2r xxxvxxxiii
    • Rev. Mr. Mortimer,
    • Rev. Mr. Morton, of University Coll.
    • Rev. Chardin Musgrave, M.A.
    • John Merril, Esq; royal paper.
    • Mrs. Olympia Morshead, of Cartuther, Cornwall.
    • Mrs. Masters, of Pool.
    • Miss Polly Mills, of Bridgwater, Somersetshire.
    • Mr. John Mills, Merchant, of London.
    • Rev. Mr. Morshead, M.A. Fellow of Exeter Coll.
    • John Montague, Esq; of Wales, royal paper.
    • Miss Matthews, of Wallingford.
    • Mr. Thomas Monkhouse, B.A. of Queen’s Coll.
    • Rev. Mr. Meeke, M.A. Fellow of Pembroke Coll.
    • Mrs. Miller, of Ozelworth, Gloucestershire.
    • Mrs. Mitchell, of Steyning, in Sussex.
    • Miss Moore.
    • Miss May.
    • Mrs. Madane, of Bond-street, royal paper.
    • John Miller, Esq; of the Inner Temple.
    • Rev. Mr. Morris, Fellow of Brazen Nose Coll.
    • James Moncaster, Esq; M.A.
    • Miss Martin, of Woodstock.
    • Mr. Thomas Mitchell, Sojourner of Exeter Coll.
    • Mr. Morland, of Coggs.
    • Edward Mundy, Esq;
    • Thomas Manwaring, Esq;
    • Miss Patty Musgrove,
    • Miss Polly Musgrove, of Oxford.
    • Miss Mann, of Linton,
    • Miss Martin, of Loose, in Kent.
  • N.

    • Her Grace the Duchess of Newcastle, 2 books, royal paper.
    • The Right Hon. the Countess of Northumberland, r.p.
    • The Hon. Mr. Noel, royal paper.
    • e2 The e2v xxxvixxxiv
    • The Hon. Mr. Nassau, royal paper.
    • Lady Newdigate, royal paper.
    • Mrs. Norris.
    • Mrs. Nichols.
    • Miss Nichols, of Great Ormond-street.
    • George Nares, Esq; of Oxford, 2 books.
    • Miss Newton, of Tiverton, royal paper.
    • Charles Nourse, Surgeon, of Oxford.
    • Mr. Norman, of Oxford.
    • Rev. M. Neve, M.A. Fellow of Corp. Christ Coll.
    • Mr. North, Attorney at Law, of Watlington.
    • Mrs. Newsham, of Marston, Warwickshire.
    • Miss Napleton, of Canterbury.
    • Miss Norman, of Henly upon Thames.
    • Miss Nelmes, of Bradley, Gloucestershire.
    • Christopher Neville, Esq; royal paper.
    • Mrs. Niblett, of Oxford.
    • Rev. Mr. Noel, M.A. Fellow of New Coll.
    • The Rev. Dr. Nash, Chancellor of Norwich.
    • Rev. Mr. Neal, Fellow of Clare Hall, Cambridge.
    • Mr. Nourse, Fellow of All Souls, Coll.
    • Mrs. Nourse, of Wood Eaton.
    • Mr. Wm. Norton, Attorney at Law, of Oxford, 2 books.
    • Rev. Mr. Norton.
    • The Rev. Dr. Nicholas.
    • Mr. John Notley.
    • Robert Needham, Esq;
    • Mr. Norris, M.A. Fellow Commoner of Magd. Coll.
  • O.

    • Mrs. Ogle, of Camberwell.
    • Rev. Humphrey Owen, B.D. Publick Librarian of the
      University of Oxford.
    • Miss Owens, of Emmor Green, Berks.
    • William e3r xxxviixxxv
    • William Oliver, M.D. of Bath.
    • Miss Osborne, of Workley, Gloucestershire.
    • Rev. Mr. Osborne, Rector of Godmanstone, Dorsetshire.
  • P.

    • The Right Hon. Lady Caroline Peachy, royal paper.
    • The Right Hon. the Earl of Plymouth, royal paper.
    • The Right Hon. the Countess of Pomfret.
    • The Right Hon. Lady Parker.
    • Sir John Philipps, Bart.
    • Edward Popham, Esq; Knight of the Shire for the County
      of Wilts, royal paper.
    • Sir Wm. Beauchamp Proctor, Knight of the Shire for the
      County of Middlesex, royal paper.
    • Wm. Proctor, Esq; of Somerset House, royal paper.
    • Robert Paul, Esq;
    • Mr. Pringle.
    • Mr. Parsons.
    • John Periam, Esq;
    • Miss Harriot Proctor.
    • Mrs. Pullen.
    • Mr. Paget, of Oriel Coll.
    • Rev. Mr. Pead, M.A. Fellow of Wadham Coll.
    • Mrs. Price, of Dorchester.
    • Miss Pretty.
    • Thomas Perrot, Esq; of Bath.
    • Michael Pope, Esq;
    • Mr. Thomas Phillips.
    • Mrs. Panting,
    • Mrs. Sarah Panting, of Oxford.
    • Miss Panting,
    • George Pitt, Esq; of Stratfield Sea, royal paper.
    • Mrs. Pitt, royal paper.
    • Mrs. Mary Perrie, of Furnival’s Inn-court.
    • Mr. e3v xxxviiixxxvi
    • Mr. Thomas Proctor, of Queen’s Coll.
    • Mrs Pottle, of Oxford.
    • Miss Parrot.
    • Rev. Mr. Parker, M.A. Fellow of Trinity Coll.
    • The Rev. John Potter, D.D. Archdeacon of Oxford, royal
      paper.
    • Thomas Potter, Esq; Member of Parliament for St. Germans,
      royal paper.
    • Mrs. Pierce, of Tiverton.
    • Mrs. Price, of Carmarthenshire.
    • Rev. Mr. Price, B.D. Fellow of Jesus Coll.
    • The Rev. Dr. Pardo, Principal of Jesus coll.
    • The Rev. Mr. Payn, Dean of the Island of Jersey, r.p.
    • Mrs. Payn.
    • Mr. Price, Student of Christ Church.
    • Mrs. Price, of Took’s Court.
    • Miss Palmer.
    • Mrs. Prall, of Epsom.
    • Rev. Mr. Periam, M.A. Student of Christ Church.
    • Mr. John Philips, of Jesus Coll.
    • Rev. Mr. Pennicott, M.A. of Exeter College.
    • Rev. Mr. Portall, Sojourner of Exeter Coll.
    • Mr. Pypon.
    • Miss Pratveil.
    • Mrs. Frances Perrice, of Saville Row.
    • Mrs. Poultney, of Cleveland Row.
    • Mrs. Frances Poultney.
    • Jonathan Moreton Pleydell, Esq; of Lincoln’s Inn.
    • Mr. Pratt, Commoner of University Coll.
    • Amos Prowse, Esq;
    • Rev. Mr. Plomer, M.A. Fellow of Lincoln Coll.
    • German Pool, Esq;
    • Rev. Mr. Robert Pye.
    • Francis Page, Esq;
    • —Pigott, B.M. Fellow of New Coll.
    • The Rev Dr. Purnell, Warden of New Coll.
    • Charles e4r xxxixxxxvii
    • Charles Price, Esq; of Blount’s Court.
    • Lewis Pryse, Esq; of Woodstock.
    • Mr. Thomas Price, Attorney at Law, of Abergavenny.
    • Rev. Mr. Phelp, Rector of Heathfield, Somersetshire.
    • Miss Peach, of Chaford, Gloucestershire.
    • Miss Pyke, of Clanfield, Dorsetshire.
    • Rev. Mr. Parsons, Vicar of Marcham, Berks.
    • Rev. Peter Pinnell, M.A. Rector of Bermondsey.
    • Rev. Mr. John Priest
    • Miss Mary Philips, of Brecon.
    • Miss Pysing.
    • Mrs. Pinney.
    • Rev. Mr. Pinkney, M.A. Minor Canon of St. Paul’s.
    • Rev. Mr. Parry, M.A. Student of Christ Church.
    • Thomas Peach, Esq; of Harborough, Lecestershire.
    • Rev. Mr. Patten, B.D. Fellow,
    • Mr. Patten, Gent. Commoner, of Corp. Christ Coll.
    • Mrs. Parkhurst, of Catesby, Northamptonshire.
    • Mrs. Eliz. Pierce, of Devon.
    • Rev. Mr. Pugh, of Aylesbury.
    • Mr. James Payne, of Brackley.
    • Rev. Mr. Pyle, Rector of West Alvington, Devon.
    • Mr. John Pering, M.A. Fellow of Exeter Coll.
  • Q.

    • Mrs. Questead, of Canterbury.
    • John Quick, Esq;
    • Nutcombe Quick, Esq; of Devonshire.
  • R.

    • The Right Hon. the Earl of Rochford, royal paper.
    • The Right Hon. the Countess of Rochford, royal paper.
    • The e4v xlxxxviii
    • The Right Hon. Lord Ravensworth. royal paper.
    • The Right Hon. Lady Ravensworth, royal paper.
    • The Rev. Sir Peter Rivers. Bart. royal paper.
    • Lady Richardson.
    • William Rea, Esq;
    • Matthew Robinson, Esq;
    • Samuel Renardson, Esq; of Great Ormond-street.
    • Richard Riggs, Esq;
    • Captain Russel, of Edinburgh.
    • Mr. John Rigg, of Covent Garden.
    • Mrs. Rogers.
    • Mrs. Rutter, of Windsor.
    • —Roberts, M.D. of Abergavenny.
    • Richard Roberts, Esq; of Wootton.
    • Mrs. Roberts.
    • Mr. John Roberts, Commoner of Jesus Coll.
    • Mr. William Roberts, of Eton School.
    • Daniel Rich, Esq;
    • The Rev. Dr. Ratcliff, Master of Pembroke Coll.
    • John Robertson, M.D. of Pitcomb.
    • Rev. Mr. Read, B.D. Fellow of Jesus Coll.
    • Henry Rowe, Esq; of Bloomsbury Square.
    • Nathanael Rowe, Esq;
    • Mr. John Roberts, Scholar of Brazen Nose Coll.
    • Miss Reading, of Sherborne, Dorsetshire.
    • Rev. Mr. Russel, Rector of Meeth, Devon.
    • Miss Sarah Russell, of Biddiford.
    • Mrs. Judith Reynolds.
    • Ambrose Andrew Rhodes, Esq; of Exeter Coll.
    • Rev. Mr. Rennel, of Drewsteignton, Devon.
    • Philip Rashleigh, Esq; of New Coll.
    • Miss Sally Reeves, of Oxford.
    • Rev. Mr. Royse, Rector of Winsham, Somerset.
    • Mrs. Rice, royal paper. of Wales.
    • George Rice, Esq; royal paper.
    • Rev. Mr. Rowdon, Fellow of Merton Coll.
    • The f1r xlixxxix
    • The Rev. Dr. Robinson, Warden of Merton Coll.
    • The Rev. Thomas Robinson, D.D. Prebendary of Peterborough,
      and Vicar of Port Eland.
    • Miss Robinson.
    • Mr. Rogers, Commoner of Pembroke Coll.
    • Miss Rogers.
    • Miss Rainstorp.
    • William Russell, Esq; Student of Christ Church.
    • Rev. Edward Pickering Rich, M.A. of North-Cerney,
      Gloucestershire.
    • Mrs. Rutherford, of Chievely, Berks.
    • Mrs. Reay, of Newcastle upon Tyne.
    • The Rev. Dr. Reynell, Precentor of Conner in Ireland.
    • Mrs. Reynell.
    • Mrs. Reynell, of Bampton, Oxfordshire.
    • William Beauchamp Rey, Esq; royal paper.
    • Thomas Rowney, Esq; Member of Parliament for the City
      of Oxford, royal paper.
    • Rev. Mr. Michael Rawlins, of Abingdon.
    • Rev. Mr. Joseph Robertson, B.A. of Queen’s Coll.
    • Mrs. Roberts, of Oxford.
  • S.

    • Her Grace the Duchess of Somerset, royal paper.
    • The Right Hon. the Countess of Stamford.
    • The Right Hon. the Countess of Sunderland, royal paper.
    • The Right Hon. the Earl of Shaftesbury, 2 books, I r.p.
    • The Right Hon. the Countess of Shaftesbury, 2 books, r.p.
    • The Right Hon. the Countess Dowager of Strafford.
    • The Right Hon. Lord Francis Seymour.
    • The Hon. Mr. Sandys.
    • The Hon. Matthew Skinner, Chief Justice of Chester.
    • Sir John Stonhouse, Bart.
    • William Stonhouse, Esq; royal paper.
    • f Rev. f1v xliixl
    • Rev. Mr. James Stonhouse.
    • Mrs. Mary Stonhouse.
    • Peter Serle, Esq;
    • Mrs. Serle.
    • Mrs. Serle, jun.
    • Conningsby Sibthorp, Esq; Member of Parliament for the
      City of Lincoln, royal paper.
    • Humphry Sibthorp, M.D. Botany Professor at Oxford,
      6 books, royal paper, 6 small.
    • Mrs. Sibthorp.
    • Jonathan Skinner, Esq;
    • Thomas Sewel, Esq; of Serjeant’s Inn, royal paper.
    • Mr. John Sewel, 4 books, royal paper.
    • Mrs. Scot.
    • Mrs. Sarney, of Oxford.
    • Philip Sharp, Esq; royal paper.
    • Captain Sharp.
    • Henry Sexby, Esq;
    • Miss Shelley.
    • George Spiltimber, Esq;
    • Mr. Smith.
    • Mrs. Sarah Shapleigh.
    • Mr. Isaac Shard, of Hatton Garden.
    • Rev. Mr. Sanderson, of Cambridge.
    • The Rev. Richard Smallbrook, L.L.D.
    • John Skinner, M.A. Fellow of St. John’s Coll.
    • Mr. Thomas Swale, of Mildenhall, Suffolk.
    • Mr. John Swale, of Hatton Garden.
    • Rev. Samuel Francis Swinden, M.A.
    • Meyer Schamberg, M.D. of Fenchurch-street.
    • Isaac Schamberg, M.D. of Covent Garden.
    • Rev. William Smith, B.D. Fellow of Lincoln Coll.
    • Rev. Mr. Stephens, of Queen’s Coll.
    • Mr. Sparrow, of Oriel Coll.
    • Mrs. Smith, of Oxford.
    • Rev. Mr. Stebbing, of Magdalen Coll.
    • Rev. f2r xliiixli
    • Rev. Mr. Saunders, M.A. Chaplain of Christ Church.
    • Rev. Mr. Secker, M.A. Student of Christ Church.
    • Mr. John Sampson, B.A. Fellow of Merton Coll.
    • Mr. Seely, Student of Christ Church.
    • William Sheldon, Esq;
    • Miss Southam.
    • Mr. Seymour.
    • Rev. Mr. Swan, M.A. Fellow of Magd. Coll.
    • Rev. Mr. Shepherd, Rector of Norton.
    • Rev. Mr. Sharp, M.A.
    • Rev. Mr. Smalwell, M.A. Student of Christ Ch.
    • Mr. Charles Jasper Sedwin,
    • Miss Smythe, of Cuddesden, royal paper.
    • Hans Stanley, Esq;
    • Mrs. Eliz. Searle, of Epsom.
    • John Short, Esq; of Hatton Garden.
    • Mr. William Smith, Postmaster of Merton Coll.
    • Miss Molly Smith, of Beckley, Oxfordshire.
    • Mrs. Stevens, of Fawley.
    • Miss Sturt, of Henley.
    • Mr. Sherrard, Apothecary, of Hungerford.
    • Mr. Sandford, of Oriel Coll.
    • Joseph Smith, L.L.D. of Oxford.
    • Mrs. Smith.
    • Mrs. Sykes, of Cavendish-square.
    • George Scot, Esq; of Woolston Hall, Essex, royal paper.
    • Rev. Mr. Sharp, of University Coll.
    • Mr. Stapylton, Gent. Commoner of University Coll.
    • The Rev. Mr. Smart, Prebendary of Litchfield and Student
      of Christ Church.
    • The Rev. John Spier, D.D. Fellow of St. John’s Coll.
    • Rev. John Saunders, B.D.
    • Miss Scot, of Barham, in Kent.
    • Miss Seidal, of Oxford.
    • Rev. Nathanael Sandford, M.A. of New Coll.
    • Rev. Mr. Shuter, Rector of Kebworth, Leicestershire.
    • f2 Rev. f2v xlivxlii
    • Rev. Mr. Sayer, of Worton, Oxfordshire.
    • Rev. Mr. Stephens, B.D. Fellow of Exeter Coll.
    • Rev. Mr. Saunders, M.A.
    • Rev. Mr. Snowden, M.A. Fellow of Merton Coll.
    • Miss Sallway, of the Moor, Shropshire, royal paper.
    • Roles Scydiamore, Esq; of Bristol.
    • Mrs. Spencer, of Upper Brook-street.
    • Miss Stevens, of Oxford.
    • Miss Mary Speke, of Somersetshire,.
    • Mrs. Alice Speke, of Ilminster.
    • Miss Sergison, of Cookfield, Sussex.
    • Rev. Mr. Smith, of Balliol Coll.
    • Yerbery Smith, of Oriel Coll.
    • Miss Smith, of Spoxton, Somersetshire.
    • Mrs. Smith, of College Green, Bristol.
    • Mrs. Ann Smith.
    • Miss Southwell.
    • Rev. Mr. Singer, of Barnes, Surrey.
    • Mr. Spry, B.A. Student of Christ Church.
    • Mrs. Short, royal paper.
    • Mrs. Eliz. Sherwood, of Hungerford.
    • Mr. James Salisbury.
    • Mrs. Starssey.
    • The Rev. Dr. Shipley, Canon of Christ Church, royal p.
    • Rev. Robert Swinburn, M.A.
    • John Swinburn, Esq;
    • William Swinburn, Esq; of Newcastle upon Tyne.
    • Miss Swinburn, royal paper.
    • The Rev. Dr. Shipman, Fellow of All Souls Coll.
    • Wm. Swimmerton, Esq;
    • Samuel Salt, Esq; of the Inner Temple.
    • Rev. Mr. Rich. Stock, M.A. of Balliol Coll.
    • Rev. Mr. Swinton, M.A. 2 books.
    • John Saumarez, Esq; late of Pembroke Coll. and his Majesty’s
      Attorney in Guernsey.
    • Mrs. Strete, of Harborough, Leicestershire.
    • Mrs. f3r xlvxliii
    • Mrs. Spinckes, of Aldwinkle, Northamptonshire.
    • Mrs. Sanford, of Ninehead, Somersetshire.
    • Mr. Edward Score, of Exeter.
    • Mr. George Stinton, Fellow of Exeter Coll.
    • Mr. Samuel Slocock, of Newbury.
    • Mr. Christopher Smart, M.A. Fellow of Pembroke Hall,
      Cambridge.
    • The student.
  • T.

    • The Marchioness of Tweeddale.
    • The Right Hon. the Countess of Tankerville.
    • The Right Hon. the Earl Tilney, royal paper.
    • The Right Hon. Lady Viscountess Tracy.
    • The Hon. and Rev. George Talbot, 2 books, royal paper.
    • The Hon. Mrs. Talbot.
    • Sir Charles Tynte, Bart, royal paper.
    • Lady Thorold.
    • Miss Talbot.
    • Charles Henry Talbot, Esq;
    • Rev. Mr. Talbot, of Kineton, Warwickshire.
    • Mrs. Talbot.
    • Mrs. Tracy, of Coscombe, Gloucestershire.
    • Mrs. Tracy, of Stanway, Gloucestershire, royal paper.
    • Mrs. Tracy, of Sandywell, Gloucestershire.
    • Mrs. Travell, of Swerford.
    • Mrs. Jane Travell.
    • Miss Travell.
    • William Travell, Esq; of Roehampton.
    • Mr. Travell, Fellow of Exeter Coll.
    • Thomas Thornton, Esq; of Brockhall, Northamptonshire.
    • Mrs. Thornton.
    • John Thornton, Esq; roy al paper.
    • Mr. Bonnell Thornton, M.A. Student of Christ Ch. 6 books,
      1 royal paper.
    • Mr. f3v xlvixliv
    • Mr. Travers, Organist of Covent Garden.
    • Rev. Mr. Thomas, of Boxley, in Kent.
    • Mrs. Terrick.
    • Mrs. Tucker.
    • Rev. John Territ, B.D.
    • Cornwall Tathwell, M.A. Fellows of St. John’s Coll.
    • Miss Kitty Treadwell, of Oxford.
    • Miss Joanna Thorp.
    • Fiennes Trotman, Esq; of Bicester.
    • Mr. Samuel Trotman.
    • Mrs. Tervilè
    • Mr. Nathan Thomas, of Jesus Coll. 2 books.
    • Mrs. Ann Tanner, of Monmouth.
    • The Rev. John Tottie, M.A. Archdeacon of Worcester,
      royal paper.
    • Mrs. Tottie, royal paper.
    • Miss Jenny Trollope,
    • Miss Tawney, of Oxford.
    • Mrs. Townshend.
    • Bartholomew Tipping, Esq; of Wooley, Berks.
    • Mrs. Tipping.
    • Thomas Taylor, Esq; of Denbury.
    • John Taylor, Esq; of Yorkshire.
    • Miss Taylor, of Red Lyon-square.
    • Mr. Tanqwry, of Christ Church.
    • Mr. Trollope, Demi of Magdalen Coll.
    • Mr. Francis Taynton, Commoner of Jesus Coll.
    • Rev. Mr. Thomas, M.A. of Covent Garden.
    • Rev. Wm. Thompson, M.A. Fell. of Queen’s Coll.
    • The Rev. Dr. Savage Tyndall, Fellow of All Souls Coll.
    • Miss Theker, of Milk-street.
    • Rev. Mr. Taswell, M.A. Vicar of Wotton-under-edge,
      2 books.
    • Miss Mary Trevor, royal paper.
    • Miss Trimnal.
    • Miss Grace Tyrrell.
    • Robert Tynte, Esq; of Ireland.
    • Mrs. f4r xlviixlv
    • Mrs. Tryst,
    • Mrs. Turner, of Abergavenny.
    • Gilbert Trow, M.D.
    • Rev. Mr. Twynihoe, M.A. Fellow of Merton Coll.
    • Mrs. Ann Thomas, of Covent Garden.
    • Mrs. Templer.
    • Mrs. Taylor.
    • Miss Tompkins.
    • Mrs. Thornhill, of Pool.
    • Mrs. Travers, of Fenchurch-street.
    • Miss Trenchard, of Lytchet, Dorsetshire.
    • Thomas Tregonnewell, Esq; of Anderson, royal paper.
    • Rev. Mr. Tench, of Cookfield, Sussex.
    • Benjamin Tilden, Esq; of Eltham.
    • James Tillson, Esq; royal paper.
    • Rev. Mr. Tookie, Student of Christ Ch.
    • Mrs. Trip.
    • Mrs. Treacher, of Oxford.
    • Rev. Mr. Taylor, of Bifrons, in Kent.
    • Mrs. Taylor.
    • Rev. Mr. Turner, Vicar of Newcastle upon Tyne.
    • John Tuckfield, Esq; of Fulford, royal paper.
    • Rev. Mr. Tucker, of Cullumpton, Devon.
    • Rev. Mr. Turner, Fellow of New Coll.
    • Mrs. Twiner, of Hunton, in Kent.
    • Capt. Edmund Toll, Commander of his Majesty’s Ship the
      Oxford.
    • Miss Toll.
    • James Thomas, Esq; of his Majesty’s Office of the Imprest,
      royal paper.
  • V.

    • The Right Hon. Lady Grace Vane.
    • Sir Richard Vyvyan, Bart. Oriel Coll. royal paper.
    • Lady f4v xlviiixlvi
    • Lady Vanbrugh.
    • Arthur Vansittart, Esq; royal paper.
    • John Vanhattem, Esq;
    • Mrs. Vanhattem.
    • Miss Vanhattem.
    • Miss Lydia Catherine Vanhattem.
    • Mr. Richard Vivian, of Oriel Coll.
    • Miss Vallis, of Oxford.
    • Rev. Mr. Vatas, M.A. Student of Christ Church.
    • James Viney, Esq; of St. Mary Hall.
    • Mrs. Vaughan, of Fritwell.
    • Rev. Francis Upton, M.A. Fellow of Exeter Coll.
    • Mr. Vivian, M.A. Fellow of Balliol Coll.
  • W.

    • The Right Hon. Lady Viscountess Windsor.
    • The Right Hon. Lady Frances Williams, royal paper.
    • The Right Hon. Lady Eliz. Warren, royal paper.
    • The Right Hon. Lady Ann Wallop.
    • The Right Hon. Lady Wenman, royal paper.
    • The Hon. Horace Walpole, Esq; royal paper.
    • The Hon. Mrs. Windsor.
    • Lady Williams Wynne, royal paper.
    • Sir John Worden, Bart. royal paper.
    • Lady Worden, royal paper.
    • Mrs. Wheeler, 20 books, royal paper.
    • Thomas Wilson, Esq;
    • Mrs. Woodroff, royal paper.
    • Mrs. Weston, of Somerset-house.
    • Francis Wace, Esq;
    • Mr. Wace.
    • Rev. Mr. Williams.
    • Mr. Whiting.
    • Rev. Mr. Wheatland, Rector of Stanton St. John’s, 6 books.
    • Mr. g1r xlixxlvii
    • Mr. Wishart, of Cursitor-street, 2 books.
    • Mr. Worgan, Organist, royal paper.
    • John Worgan, Bac. Mus.
    • Miss Worgan, Teacher of Musick, royal paper.
    • Edward Williams, Esq;
    • Mrs. Ann Whitchurch.
    • Mr. Whitfield, of Windsor.
    • Hugh Watson, Esq;
    • John Willes, Esq; Member of Parliament for Banbury.
    • Edward Willes, Esq; Member of Parliament for Aylesbury.
    • Miss Sally Wood.
    • Samuel Welles, Esq;
    • Miss Patty Way, of Norfolk-street.
    • Mr. Christopher Watkins, A.B. of Christ Church.
    • Mr. Wolley, of Oxford.
    • John Knightly Wightwick, jun. Esq;
    • Rev. Mr. Warneford, of Sinnington, royal paper.
    • Rev. Thomas Warneford, M.A. Rector of Bagpath, and
      Chaplain of Christ Ch. I book royal paper, I small.
    • Mrs. Whalley, of Oxford.
    • Mr John Walsh, of Catherine-street.
    • Mrs. Wright.
    • Miss Wilks.
    • Rev. Mr. Waterhouse, Fellow of Dulwich Coll.
    • Henry Worth, Esq; of Worth.
    • Mrs. Worth, of Tiverton.
    • Rev. Francis Wise, B.D. Keeper of the Archives of the
      University of Oxford, I royal paper, I small.
    • Mr. Edward Wife, jun. of Harlow.
    • Mrs. Wife,
    • Mrs. Sarah Wife,
    • Miss Wheatley, of Oxford.
    • Mr. Ward,
    • Mr. John Willes, of Totness.
    • Rev. James Williams, B.D. Fellow of
    • Mr. Thomas Williams, of Jesus Coll.
    • g Hampden g1v lxlviii
    • Hampden Weston, Esq; of Norfolk-street.
    • Mrs. Whatley, of Nonsuch Park.
    • The Rev. Dr. Walwin, Prebendary of Canterbury.
    • Mr. John Walker, of Bix.
    • George Wright, Esq;
    • Rev. Mr. Wood, of Darlington in the Bishoprick of Durham.
    • Mrs. Warner, of St. James’s-street.
    • Mrs. Wyatt.
    • Major Weldon, of Gerard-street.
    • The Rev. Christopher Wilson, D.D. Prebendary of Westminster.
    • Rev. Mr. Wood, Fellow of University Coll.
    • The Rev. James Weedon, D.D. Fell. of St. John’s Coll.
    • Rev. William Wheeler, M.A.
    • Mrs. Welby, of Welborn.
    • Browne Willis, Esq;
    • The Rev. Dr. Webber, Rector of Exeter Coll.
    • Mr. Wright, Fellow of Merton Coll.
    • Francis Winnington, Esq; Member of Parliament for Droitwich,
      2 books.
    • Miss Worgan, of Andover, Dorsetshire.
    • Mrs. Wyndham, of Bruton-street.
    • John Williams, Esq; Gent. Commoner of Exeter Coll.
    • Miss Walter, of Cookfield, Sussex.
    • Mr. Whitchurch, Gent. Commoner of Queen’s Coll.
    • Rev. Mr. Whiting, Fellow
    • Mr. Wilie, B.A. of Oriel Coll.
    • John Whitlocke, Esq;
    • Miss Judith Whitlocke.
    • Mrs. Whitlock, of Wotton-under-edge.
    • Mrs. Wragge.
    • Rev. Mr. Thomas Williams, Vicar of Brecon.
    • Mrs. Wade, royal paper.
    • Mrs. Warry.
    • Mrs,. White, of Newcastle upon Tyne.
    • Mrs. White, of Dorsetshire.
    • Rev. g2r lixlix
    • Rev. Mr. Welshman, Rector of Dodford, Northamptonsh
    • Mr. Walker, Attorney at Law, of Oxford.
    • Francis Wheeler, Esq; of the Inner Temple.
    • Joseph Wilcox, Esq; royal paper,
    • Rev. Mr. Waterhouse, M.A. Students of Christ Ch.
    • Mrs. Eliz. Walker, of Harborough, Leicestershire.
    • Rev. Mr. Wickham, Rector of Sandford, Somersetshire.
    • William Woolascot, Esq; of Newbury.
    • Mrs. Walford, of Sibford, Oxfordshire.
    • Rev. Mr. Woods, of Abingdon.
    • John Wilkes, Esq; of Aylesbury, royal paper.
    • Edmund Warkman, Esq; royal paper.
    • Mr. Richard Williams, of Brecon.
    • Mr. Edward Withers, Surgeon of Newbury.
    • Peter Waldo, Esq; Gent. Commoner of University Coll.
      royal paper.
    • Miss Waldo.
    • Mr. John Webber, B.A. of Exeter Coll.
    • Rev. Mr. Winyate, Rector of Charlton, Devon.
    • Mr. Watters, of Daventry.
    • Miss Jane Whitten, of Burford.
    • Mr. Thomas Warton, M.A. of Trinity Coll.
    • Cornelius Wittnoon, Esq; of Watford.
  • Y.

    • The Rev. Dr. Yarborough, Principal of Brazen-nose Coll.
    • The Rev. Dr. Young, Rector of Wellwyn, royal paper.
    • Miss Yates, of Oxford.
    • Mrs. Yea, of Ockington, Somersetshire.
    • The Rev. Dr. Yates, Fellow of Queen’s Coll.
    • Shute Shrimpton Yeamans, Esq; royal paper.
g2 Appen. g2v liil

Appendix.

  • The Right Hon. Lady Mary Gregory, royal paper.
  • The Right Hon. the Countess of Litchfield, royal paper.
  • The Right Hon. the Countess of Deloraine.
  • The Right Hon. Lady Viscountess Lymmington.
  • The Right Hon Lady Viscountess Donerayle, 2 books.
  • The Right Hon. Lady Emma Long, royal paper.
  • The Hon. Mrs. Lee, royal paper.
  • The Hon. Cecil Calvert, Esq;
  • Lady Turner.
  • Sir Robert Long, Bart. Knight of the Shire for the County
    of Wilts, royal paper.
  • Sir Henry Lawson, Bart.
  • Sir Phillip Touchit Chetwode, Bart.
  • George Cooke, Esq; Knight of the Shire for the County of
    Middlesex, royal paper.
  • Francis Gashry, Esq; Member of Parliament for East Loe in
    Cornwall, royal paper.
  • The Rev. Dr. Leigh, Master of Baliol Coll.
  • The Rev. Dr. Gregory, Canon of Ch. Ch. royal paper.
  • Francis Popham Esq; Gent. Com. of St. Mary Hall, r. pap.
  • Miss Onslow.
  • Miss Elizabeth Horne of Otham in Kent.
  • Rev. Mr. Dalton of Stanmore, Middlesex.
  • Capel Payne, Esq; of the Inner Temple.
  • Miss Sarah Rhodes of Plympton,
  • John Luscombe, Esq; of Comb Royal, Devon.
  • John Seal, Esq; of Mount Boon.
  • Mr. Bennet of Oriel Coll.
  • Miss Carolina Brathwaite.
  • Mr. John Acland, Scholar of Baliol Coll.
  • The g3r liiili
  • The Rev. Dr. Bowles of Brackley, Oxfordshire.
  • John Kelly, M.A. of Ch. Ch.
  • Mr. Warren, Student of Ch. Ch.
  • Mr. Whitfield, Commoner of Ch. Ch.
  • Rev. Mr. Hayter, Rector of Chagford, and Chaplain to the
    Lord Bishop of Norwich.
  • Miss Eliz. Tucker of Exeter, royal paper.
  • James Leigh, Esq;
  • Mr. Pardoe, Merchant, of London.
  • Mr. Tremlet, Merchant, of Exeter.
  • Rev. Mr. Monteath, M.A.
  • James Urmston, Esq;
  • Mr. Lomas.
  • Mr. Soresby, Gent. Com. St. Mary Hall.
  • Miss Tichborne of Wolverhampton.
  • Phillip Pargiter, Esq; of Litchfield.
  • Rev. Mr. Mence, M.A. Vicar of Pancras.
  • Miss Disney of Cranbrook,
  • Miss Haswell of Horsmonden,
  • Miss Beale, in Kent.
  • John Cook, Esq; of Swifts,
  • Richard S—Dyke, Esq;
  • Mr. Cruttenden,
  • Mrs. Cruttenden,
  • Rev. Mr. Hayley, of Burwich in Sussex.
  • Mrs. Hussey,
  • Miss Hussey,
  • Rev. Mr. Affleck,
  • Miss Eleanor Clerk, of Daventry, Northamptonshire.
  • Miss Eliz. Clay,
  • Mr. Humphrey Payne, Goldsmith, in London.
  • Mr. Cooper, Attorney at Law, of Henly.
  • Miss Molly Wyment, of Daventry.
  • Mrs. Wittewrong.
  • Thomas Corbett, Esq;
  • James g3v livlii
  • James Forster, Esq;
  • Mrs. Parkhurst of Catesby, 2 books.
  • Mr. William Sawbridge.
  • Mrs. Dolben of Finedon,
  • Rev. Mr. Walton of Burton,
  • Miss Mary Proctor of Claycoten,
  • Mrs. Eliz. Mobbs of Weston Weedon, Northamptonshire.
  • Mrs. Horton of Guilsbrough,
  • Rev. Mr. Tho. Hartly of Winwick,
  • Miss Catherine Burbridge of Staverton
  • Miss Mary Plumer of Billen, Warwickshire.
  • Miss Grace Rawson of Halifax, Yorkshire.
  • Mr. William Davis of Brazen Nose Coll.
  • Miss Eliz. Davis.
  • Miss Mary Davis.
  • William Buller, Esq;
  • Miss Mary Buller.
  • Miss Eliz. Buller.
  • Mr. William Richards.
  • Mr. Samuel Robinson.
  • Mr. Edward Eltum.
  • Mess. Samuel and Nathaniel Buck.
  • George Phillips, Esq;
  • William Pate, Esq;
  • Mr. Mash of Bishopgate-street.
  • Rev. Mr. Congreve of Blockley.
  • Mrs. Dashwood.
  • Mrs. Hughes of Cheltenham.
  • Mrs. Potter of Chard, Somersetshire.
  • Dr. Hayes of Oxford.
  • Mr. Lysons, Fellow Commoner of Magdalen College.
  • George Kalmer, Esq;
  • Mrs. Knightly of Offchurch,
  • Miss Lucy Knightley of Charwelton, Northamptonshire.
  • The Rev. Dr. Faucett, Fellow of C.C. Coll.
  • Rev. g4r lvliii
  • Rev. Mr. Powell, Fellow of Trinity Coll. Cambridge, and
    senior Assistant of Westminster school, royal paper.
  • —Low, Esq; of Derbyshire.
  • Miss Kitty Bathurst
  • Miss Lawton.
  • Mrs. Sheldon of Weston, Warwickshire.
  • Mrs. Oury of Woodland,
  • Mrs. Rhodes of Modbury, Devon.
  • Miss Susanna Nicoll, of Highwood Hill, royal paper.
  • Mrs. Sarah Fenwicke, of Park-street.
  • Miss Camille Richmond,
  • Rev. Mr. Lambe, Newcastle upon Tyne.
  • Mrs. Bland of Hurworth,
  • Mrs. Gale,
  • Rev. Mr. Harrison,
  • Gabeths Norton, Esq;
  • Mrs. Norton,
  • Christopher Crowe, Esq;
  • Rev. Mr. Stapylton, Northumberland.
  • Rev. Mr. Etherington,
  • Rev. Mr. Tennant,
  • Rev. Mr. Collins,
  • Miss Eliz. Routh,
  • Miss Charlotte Fielding,
  • Rev. Mr. Kay,
g4v B1r ( I )

Miscellanies
in
Verse and Prose.

An Epistle to Lady Bowyer.

How much of paper’s spoil’d! what floods
of ink!

And yet how few, how very few can think!

The knack of writing is an easy trade;

But to think well requires—at least a Head.

Once in an age, one Genius may arise,

With wit well-cultur’d, and with learning wise.

Like some tall oak, behold his branches shoot!

No tender scions springing at the root.

B Whilst B1v 2

Whilst lofty Pope erects his laurell’d head,

No lays, like mine, can live beneath his shade.

Nothing but weeds, and moss, and shrubs are found.

Cut, cut them down, why cumber they the ground?

And yet you’d have me write!—For what?
for whom?

To curl a Fav’rite in a dressing-room?

To mend a candle when the snuff’s too short?

Or save rappee for chamber-maids at Court?

Glorious ambition! noble thirst of fame!—

No, but you’d have me write—to get a name.

Alas! I’d live unknown, unenvy’d too;

’Tis more than Pope, with all his wit can do.

’Tis more than You, with wit and beauty join’d,

A pleasing form, and a discerning mind.

The world and I are no such cordial friends;

I have my purpose, they their various ends.

I say my pray’rs, and lead a sober life,

Nor laugh at Cornus, or at Cornus’ wife.

What’s fame to me, who pray, and pay my rent?

If my friends know me honest, I’m content.

Well B2r 3

Well, but the joy to see my works in print!

My self too pictur’d in a Mezzo-Tint!

The Preface done, the Dedication fram’d,

With lies enough to make a Lord asham’d!

Thus I step forth; an Auth’ress in some sort.

My Patron’s name? “O choose some Lord at Court.

One that has money which he does not use,

One you may flatter much, that is, abuse.”

For if you’re nice, and cannot change your note,

Regardless of the trimm’d, or untrimm’d coat;

Believe me, friend, you’ll ne’er be worth a groat.

Well then, to cut this mighty matter short,

I’ve neither friend, nor interest at Court.

Quite from St. James’s to thy stairs, Whitehall,

I hardly know a creature, great or small,

Except one Maid of Honour, Honourable Miss Lovelace. worth ’em all.

I have no bus’ness there. Let those attend

The courtly Levee, or the courtly Friend,

Who more than fate allows them, dare to spend.

Or those whose avarice, with much, craves more,

The pension’d Beggar, or the titled Poor.

B2 These B2v 4

These are the thriving Breed, the tiny Great!

Slaves! wretched Slaves! the Journeymen of State!

Philosophers! who calmly bear disgrace,

Patriots! who sell their country for a place.

Shall I for these disturb my brains with rhyme?

For these, like Bavius creep, or Glencus climb?

Shall I go late to rest, and early rise,

To be the very creature I despise?

With face unmov’d, my poem in my hand,

Cringe to the porter, with the footman stand?

Perhaps my lady’s maid, if not too proud,

Will stoop, you’ll say, to wink me from the croud.

Will entertain me, till his lordship’s drest,

With what my lady eats, and how she rests:

How much she gave for such a birth-day gown,

And how she trampt to ev’ry shop in town.

Sick at the news, impatient for my lord,

I’m forc’d to hear, nay smile at ev’ry word.

Tom raps at last,—“His lordship begs to know

Your name? your bus’ness—Sir, I’m not a foe.

I come B3r 5

I come to charm his lordship’s list’ning ears

With verses, soft as music of the spheres.

Verses!—Alas! his lordship seldom reads:

Pedants indeed with learning stuff their heads;

But my good lord, as all the world can tell,

Reads not ev’n tradesmen’s bills, and scorns to spell.

But trust your lays with me. Some things I’ve read,

Was born a poet, tho’ no poet bred:

And if I find they’ll bear my nicer view,

I’ll recommend your poetry—and you.”

Shock’d at his civil impudence, I start,

Pocket my poem, and in haste depart;

Resolv’d no more to offer up my wit,

Where footmen in the seat of critics sit.

Is there a Lord Right Hon. Nevil Lord Lovelace, who dy’d soon after, in the
28th year of his age.
whose great unspotted soul,

Not places, pensions, ribbons can control;

Unlac’d, unpowder’d, almost unobserv’d,

Eats not on silver, while his train are starv’d;

Who B3v 6

Who tho’ to nobles, or to kings ally’d,

Dares walk on foot, while slaves in coaches ride;

With merit humble, and with greatness free,

Has bow’d to Freeman, and has din’d with Me;

Who bred in foreign courts, and early known,

Has yet to learn the cunning of his own;

To titles born, yet heir to no estate,

And, harder still, too honest to be great;

If such an one there be, well-bred, polite?

To Him I’ll dedicate, for Him I’ll write.

Peace to the rest I can be no man’s slave;

I ask for nothing, tho’ I nothing have.

By Fortune humbled, yet not sunk so low

To shame a friend, or fear to meet a foe.

Meanness, in ribbons or in rags, I hate;

And have not learnt to flatter, ev’n the Great.

Few friends I ask, and those who love me well;

What more remains, these artless lines shall tell.

Of honest. parents, not of great, I came;

Not known to fortune, quite unknown to fame.

Frugal B4r 7

Frugal and plain, at no man’s cost they eat,

Nor knew a baker’s, or a butcher’s debt.

O be their precepts ever in my eye!

For one has learnt to live, and one to die.

Long may her widow’d age by heav’n be lent

Among my blessings! and I’m well content.

I ask no more, but in some calm retreat,

To sleep in quiet, and in quiet eat.

No noisy slaves attending round my room;

My viands wholesome, and my waiters dumb.

No orphans cheated, and no widow’s curse,

No houshold lord, for better or for worse.

No monstrous sums to tempt my soul to sin,

But just enough to keep me plain, and clean.

And if sometimes, to smooth the rugged way,

Charlot should smile, or You approve my lay,

Enough for me. I cannot put my trust

In lords; smile lies, eat toads, or lick the dust

Fortune her favours much too dear may hold:

An honest heart is worth its weight in gold.

Of B4v 8 C Of C1v 10

Of Patience.

An Epistle to
The Right Honourable Samuel Lord Masham.

Patience, my Lord, a virtue rare, I grant;

And what, I fear, the wisest of us want:

Easy the task in Action to excell,

The soul’s last trial lies in suff’ring well.

From fear, or shame what specious acts proceed!

And worldly aims oft prompt the shining deed.

Look but on half the boasted things we do,

And praise, or profit is the point in view.

From these, what crops of virtue bless the land!

With these, how oft the mower fills his hand!

Prompted by these the knave we oft regard,

While suff’ring virtue is her own reward;

Silent and meek she passes unobserv’d,

Nor prais’d by whom she’s over-reach’d or starv’d.

But granting nobler motives to the few,

And fame or int’rest not the point in view;

Grant C2r 11

Grant of the wretched’s suff’rings we partake,

And praise, or pity ev’n for virtue’s sake;

Yet that soft temper of the gen’rous mind,

That very breast, benevolent and kind,

That noble sense, which feels what others feel,

Which you, my Lord, who know it, best can tell;

Itself opprest, can least resistance show,

But pines, or sinks beneath its proper woe.

What tho’ in Action brave, unaw’d by fear,

Resolv’d as Clayton, Lieut. General Clayton; who, after a life spent in the service
of his King and Country, into which he enter’d at 17
years old, was at last kill’d by a random ball at the Battle
of Dettingen, in his 68th year; after the defeat of the Enemy,
and as he was riding thro’ the ranks to encourage the pursuit.
He was buried at Hanau, under a triple discharge of cannon,
with other military honours due to his distinguish’d merit and
character. His personal bravery under the reigns of King
William
, Queen Anne, and the present Royal Family, is too
well known to need a remark; and his domestic character was
so amiable in all its several relations, that I can only express
my sense of it in the words of Hamlet, “He was a man, take him for all in all,I shall not look upon his like again.”
or as Swift severe;

In diff’rent views their trials, tempers scan,

Ev’n Swift can weep, and Clayton is a man.

C2 Superior C2v 12

Superior faculties avail not here,

Wit points the shaft, and valour pours the tear.

The same nice nerve which vibrates to the brain

Its sense of pleasure, gives as quick its pain:

And all the diff’rence ’twixt the fool and wise,

In their sensations, and perceptions lies.

The Man of Wit in many parts is sore,

Touch but a Genius, and he smarts all o’er.

The wise his Wisdom to This word is generally us’d to express Anger, or a Sense
of Injury; but comes from the French Ressentiment, and originally
means no more than a sensible Apprehension, or true Feeling:
as, Il avoit quelque Ressentiment de Goute. Je ne perdrai
jamais le Ressentiment des Bontez que vous m’avez temoignèées.

(See Miege’s Dict.) In which sense it is here us’d.
Resentment owes,

The Fool feels little, for he little knows.

The downright Ass is passive, mild, and tame,

By blows or kindness urg’d, is still the same:

His stoic breast no kindling passions prove,

Kick him you may, but you can never move.

O envy’d creature! who nor feels or fears,

Who all things suffers, all things bravely bears.

Whom C3r 13

Whom neither Hope, or Fear, or Shame can move,

Nor kindling mounts to Rage, or melts to Love.

His pleasures always equal, flowing, full,

For ever patient and for ever dull!

If then from Wisdom half our pains arise,

Say, Masham, what avails it to be wise?

The greatest good proud Science can bestow,

But learn’d the latest, is—Our selves to know.

Yet after all their search, the wise complain,

This very knowledge irritates their pain.

In vain you tell me of the stoic train:

Where is the man not sensible of pain?

All find, all feel it too in some degree;

It makes old Zeno fret as well as me.

Else why not choose, for contemplation sake,

The burning plough-share, or the tort’ring rack?

If pain’s no ill, why not prefer the stone

To velvet cushions, and to beds of down?—

I grant he reason’d calmly in the gout,

But try him farther, and you’ll find him out.

Touch C3v 14

Touch but his pride, at once you make him smart:

A stoic only, just in such a part;

In all the rest susceptible of pain,

And feels and reasons much like other men.

Among th’ intrepid breed I know there are,

Who any hardship, any pains can bear.

To whom less shocking is th’ impending sword,

Than to the meek of soul, a slighting word.

What hardy ’squires, what soldiers daily feel,

A thousand soft Adonises wou’d kill.

“Yet whence is this?”—From reason, sir, no doubt.

But pray, will abstract reason cure the gout?

Did ever axioms sooth the nervous ill?

Or syllogisms pay the doctor’s bill?

Too much, I fear, of reason’s aid we boast,

Where most ’tis wanted, there it fails us most.

’Tis not the soldier’s reason makes him bear

Th’ inclement season, and the toilsome war;

’Tis not the nice deduction of the ’squire,

That keeps him well and warm without a fire:

The C4r 15

The mind does little; ’tis the body here,

That is, in strictness, the philosopher.

Those only then are truly said to hear,

Who feel the pain, no matter what, or where.

Suppose it of th’ acute, or lingring kind,

Suppose it of the body or the mind;

Suppose it touch the welfare of a friend,

Suppose it only at the finger’s end;

Yet, if you feel the stroke, ’tis pain to you,

And if you bear it well, you’re patient too.

For pain, as such, is neither more or less,

But borrows all its sting from passiveness.

From those nice touches which from sense arise,

Or which when past, reflection oft supplies.

In this, I grant, are infinite degrees,

But hence results our misery or ease:

Not from the stroke, so much as from the smart,

Not from the wound, but from the head or heart.

Hence Timon’s peevish, Dromio mild and tame;

But shall we flatter one, the other blame,

Because their feelings are not just the same?

C4v 16

Yet quite a Wretch who feels and frets we call,

And quite a Saint who nothing feels at all.

This too, perchance, may serve to reconcile

The virgin’s panicks, and the stoic’s smile.

’Tis this makes Charlot at a spider scream—

This spite of reason, resolution, fame,

May make a soldier shrink, a saint blaspheme.

This to a medium every station brings,

This levels with their slaves the proudest kings,

And reconciles th’ unequal face of things.

This inward sense, the feeling of the soul,

Of pain and pleasure comprehends the whole.

In vain soft Conti warbles in my ear,

If the lax nerve convey no pleasure there.

In vain the picture, and the splendid feast,

If this not strike the eye, nor that the taste.

Less pleas’d am I with Farinelli’s note,

Than the rude Cobler in his merry throat:

He, who beneath some shatter’d bulk reclin’d,

Smiles at the tempest, and derides the wind.

Who D1r 17

Who hunger, dirt, and all but thirst can bear,

To spleen a stranger, and a foe to fear.

His mind no rude sensations discompose,

Nor smells offensive e’er affront his nose;

Nor high debates, nor falling stocks he minds,

His awful temples, lo! a fillet binds;

Patient he eyes the future and the past,

And, as a king, is happy to the last.

To me it seems, howe’er our lot may fall,

That pain and pleasure’s dealt alike to all;

That ev’ry station has its proper ill,

In what we fancy, or in what we feel;

That ev’ry worldly pleasure we may gain,

Is dropt again in some attendant pain.

Thus wisely deals th’ impartial hand of Heav’n,

To check our pride, and keep the ballance ev’n.

Tell me, ye Proud ones! who this world possess,

Are not the high and low, the great and less,

Born with an equal plea to happiness?

D True D1v 18

True, in your wants and wishes you succeed;

But are you better than the slaves you feed?

Have you more virtue who of ven’son eat,

Than he who thirsts and hungers at your gate?

Alas! with plenty, peace is seldom giv’n,

Nor Beccaficoes always gifts of Heav’n.

Tell me, ye Poor ones! and your state explain,

Whose patience Heav’n proportions to your pain,

To whom is wanting ev’ry earthly good,

But quiet sleeps, and appetites subdu’d;

Whose hopes to no wild summit ever prest,

No keen sensations to disturb your breast:

Say, why were all these wondrous blessings giv’n,

But to convince you of the care of Heav’n?

To shew how equally its gifts are lent,

To some in Gold, to others in Content.

Still those are restless discontented these,

The poor for riches sigh, the rich for ease.

Thus Curio pines with envy at the great,

While you, my Lord, are sick of pomp and state.

“My D2r 19

“My fate is hard, (cries one) o’erlook’d! forgot!

Yet all life’s comforts are my neighbour’s lot.

See, he’s possess’d of all that Heav’n can grant,

But I, unhappy! ev’ry blessing want;

His life, tho’ vile, is one luxurious treat,

Whilst I have virtue, but not bread to eat.”

Well, but you’ve friends, in health too pretty sound.

“That’s not the case; I want—ten thousand pound.

Still you have—What! no reason to complain?”

Perhaps not much. However, think again.

As yet but half this envy’d man you’ve seen,

The outside’s fair indeed, but look within;

Perhaps there’s something there corrodes his breast,

That cruel something, common to the rest:

Some fav’rite wish too wild, or weak to own,

Some secret pang, to all besides unknown.

Or with his blessings, count his want of health,

And to the pleasures, add the plagues of wealth:

On ev’ry side the envy’d creature view,

Then tell me which is happiest, He or You?

D2 Possessing D2v 20

Possessing all things, cou’d we all enjoy,

Wou’d neither appetites, nor objects cloy,

Were ev’ry sense, each pleasing passion keen,

Not pall’d by surfeits, nor chastis’d with spleen;

How blest the rich! how curst indeed the poor!

One to enjoy, the other to endure.

But why repine at what to wealth is giv’n?

Since gouts and cholics set the matter ev’n.

Behold the man of luxury and wine!

His station too, it seems, is hard as thine.

What, tho’ for him our stateliest turbots swim,

And France her vines luxuriant prunes for him;

Yet he complains, when lab’ring thro’ the feast,

Of loss of appetite, and want of taste;

Envies the very beggar at his gate,

Who hardly knows the luxury to eat.

But what? your barns are full, your rents increase;

Sir Robert too has promis’d you a Place.

Have comfort, man! let not your spirits fail!

Perhaps to morrow you may relish quail.

Think D3r 21

Think rather of the pleasures which you share,

And learn their inconveniencies to bear.

Rejoice in cray-fish soup! be glad in trout!

But pray have patience, when you feel the gout;

Sit down resign’d, when cholics rack your breast,

Or rise, like Bethel, from th’ intemp’rate feast

Thus each has something to enjoy, and bear;

And none may envy much his neighbour’s share.

Envy! the source of half the wretched feel,

And where it strikes, the hardest wound to heal.

Yet why repine at what my neighbours taste?

Since I in something else am just as blest

To me perhaps kind heav’n indulgent grants

The spirits, health, or limbs my neighbour wants;

To me has giv’n a quicker sense of shame,

While he feels nothing of contempt or blame:

To me no acres of paternal ground,

To him the spleen and fifty thousand pound.

If doom’d severer trials to sustain,

Some secret pow’r may blunt the edge of pain:

The D3v 22

The keen sensation use may reconcile,

And added Hope affliction’s sting beguile.

Wou’d you enquire, why man’s to suff’ring born;

To feel his frailties, and his nature mourn?

Why each has his peculiar ill assign’d,

Some pain of body, or some plague of mind;

Some lingring malady for years endur’d,

Some hopeless passion, never to be cur’d:

And why not rather temp’rate, wise, serene,

Without all healthful, and all peace within?

Know, thankless man! that He, who rules the ball,

In goodness infinite permits it all.

For nat’ral Evil, rightly understood,

Works but the grand design, our moral Good;

And he unjustly of his lot complains,

Who finds his strength proportion’d to his pains.

This life, with pain and pleasure intermixt,

Is but a state of trial for the next;

A stage, on which amid’ the vary’d scenes,

Promiscuous Cesars tread with Harlequins.

Where D4r 23

Where none of all the self-admiring train,

May choose his part, or strut his hour again:

Our bus’ness only thro’ the measur’d span,

To act it well, and wisely as we can.

Pain was permitted in the various part,

To check the manners, and chastise the heart;

To blunt the appetite to moral ill;

To curb, restrain, and rectify the will;

To call us back from ev’ry wild pursuit;

To clear the soil for virtue’s plants to shoot;

To move compassion for our neighbour’s ill,

And teach us where to weep, from what we feel:

To fix, to urge the bus’ness of our span;

To raise the hero, and to mend the man.

Strong trials must the headstrong temper break,

As gentler methods oft reclaim the meek.

When lightnings flash, the most obdurate mind

Some efforts sure of penitence must find:

Ev’n Felix trembles at a gen’ral doom,

And owns the terrors of a world to come.

These D4v 24

These are the ends for which afflictions came,

To rouze our reason, and our passions tame;

To set fair Virtue in her proper light,

And fix the wavering attention right.

What tho’ your part amid’ the gen’ral scene,

Too high or hard appear, too low or mean;

Beset with wants, with cares and fears opprest,

The sport of fortune, and of men the jest:

Yet wait awhile, whatever chance befal,

Heav’n’s ways are equal, thine unequal all.

Here but as strangers journeying for a space,

To seek some sure, some distant resting-place;

Some perils by the way we must endure,

The cruel robber, and the night obscure.

Yet, arm’d with Patience, let us boldly dare,

The end is certain, and the prospect fair.

He, who proportions largely all our gain,

Weighs ev’ry loss, and counts out ev’ry pain;

Sees all our frailties, measures dust by dust,

In all he gives and takes, supremely just:

That E1r 25

That pow’r eternal will our steps befriend,

And guide us safely to our journey’s end;

Where ev’ry pang, where ev’ry fear shall cease,

And each immortal guest subside to peace.

To him who suffer’d well, will much be giv’n,

And Patience wear the brightest wreath in Heav’n.

For you, my Lord, in various conflicts seen,

Not spoil’d with peevishness, nor sow’rd with spleen,

The best of tempers, and the best of men:

For you, alas! one trial yet remains;

O suffer righteously these proving strains!

And if unmov’d, unruffled you can hear,

What Patienceself perchance could hardly bear;

If yet this sorer trial you survive,

Your Lordship is the patient’st man alive.

E Of E1v 26

Of Desire.

An Epistle to the Hon.Martha, only Sister of Nevil, the Last Lord Lovelace, & Maid
of honour to Queen Caroline; afterwards married to Lord
Henry Beauclerc
, a younger Son of the first Duke of St. Albans.
Miss Lovelace.

Whence these impetuous movements of
the breast?

Why beat our hearts, unknowing where to rest?

Must we still long untasted joys to taste,

Pant for the future, yet regret the past?

Can reason, can a stoic’s pride control

This unremitting sickness of the soul?

Reason! what’s that, when lawless Passion rules?

The jest of sense, and jargon of the schools.

Some few perhaps have by its lore been taught

To think, and wish, just only what they ought:

Sufficient to themselves, their wants are such,

They neither ask amiss, nor wish too much.

Here freedom dwells, and revels unconfin’d,

With plenty, ease, and indolence of mind;

True greatness, wisdom, virtue, hence must rise;

And here that home-felt joy, Contentment, lies.

O Thou! E2r 27

O Thou! for whom my fancy prunes her wing,

For whom I love to tune the trembling string,

What would we more than wisdom, virtue, ease?

Tell, if you can, for you’re content with these.

Why reason some, and some why passion rules,

Is because some are wise, and some are fools;

Their reason and their passion still at strife,

Like some meek pair in wedlock yok’d for life:

In the same int’rest, tugging diff’rent ways,

What one commands, the other disobeys.

Blest state! where this alone is fixt and sure,

To disagree, while sun and moon endure.

Hence listless, weary, sick, chagrin’d at home,

In search of happiness abroad we roam:

And yet the wisest of us all have own’d,

If ’twas not there, ’twas no where to be found.

There ev’n the poor may taste felicity,

If with contentment any such there be.

“Monstrous!” (cries Fulvia) “’twou’d a stoic vex!”

“For what’s content without a coach and fix?”

E2 So E2v 28

So humble, Fulvia! so deserving too!

Pity such worth should unregarded go—

Down on your knees again, and beg of fate,

Instead of six, to give your chariot eight.

Elvira’s passion was a china jar;

The brute, her lord, contemns such brittle ware.

No matter. —See! the glitt’ring columns rise,

Pile above pile, and emulate the skies.

Fresh cargoes come, fresh longings these create;

And what is twenty pieces for a plate?

Debates ensue; he brandishes his cane,

Down go the pyramids of Porcellane.

She faints, she falls, and in a sigh profound,

Yeilds her high soul, and levels with the ground.

“Cruel! farewel!—(were the last words she spoke)

For what is life, now all my China’s broke!”

Few can the stings of Disappointment bear!

One sends a curse to Heav’n, and one a pray’r;

The pious motive’s much the same in both,

In him that swears, and him that fears an oath.

The E3r 29

The fervent curse, and penitential pray’r,

Proceed alike from anguish, pride, despair.

Hence sober Catius lifts his hands and eyes,

And mad Corvino curses God, and dies.

“What joy, (cries Cotta in his calm retreat)

Had I but such an office in the state!

That post exactly suits my active mind,

And sure my genius was for courts design’d.”

Thou hast it, friend,—for ’tis in Fancy’s pow’r;

Learn to be thankful, and teaze Heav’n no more.

See! how kind Fancy gen’rously supplies

What a whole thankless land thy worth denies.

See! how she paints the lovely flatt’ring scene,

With all the pleasure, and without the pain.

Make much of Fancy’s favours, and believe

You’ll hardly match the pleasures she can give.

Of injur’d merit some aloud complain;

“My cruel angel!”—cries the love-sick swain.

Her marble heart at length to love inclin’d,

His cruel angel grows perversely kind.

What E3v 30

What would he more?—One wish remains to make,

That Heav’n, in pity, would his angel take.

Oft on events most men miscalculate,

Then call misfortune, what indeed was fate.

We see a little, and presume the rest,

And that is always right which pleases best

Why supple Courtine miss’d of such a post,

Was not his want of conduct, or of cost,

For he brib’d high; five hundred pieces gave;

But ah! hard fate! his patron scorns a knave.

“O for a husband, handsome and well-bred!”

(Was the last pray’r the chaste Dyctinna made.)

Kind Heav’n at length her soft petition heeds,

But one wish gain’d, a multitude succeeds—

She wants an heir, she wants a house in town,

She wants a title, or she wants a gown.

Poor Cornus! make thy will, bequeath, and give;

For if her wants continue, who would live?

Sure E4r 31

Sure to be wishing still, is still to grieve;

And proves the man or poor, or much a slave.

Will none the wretched crawling thing regard,

Who stoops so very low, and begs so hard?

You call this meanness, and the wretch despise;

Alas! he stoops to soar, and sinks to rise:

Now on the knee, now on the wing is found,

As insects spring with vigour from the ground.

Bless me! the Doctor!—what brings him to court?

It is not want; for lo! his comely port.

The lion’s lack, and hunger feel, I grant;

But they who serve the Lord can nothing want.

Why stands he here then, elbow’d to and fro?

Has he no care of souls? No work to do?

Go home, good doctor, preach and pray, and give;

By far more blessed this, than to receive.—

Alas! the doctor’s meek, and much resign’d;

But all his tenants pay their tithes in kind:

So that of debts, repairs, and taxes clear,

He hardly saves—two hundred pounds a year.

Then E4v 32

Then let him soar, ’tis on devotion’s wing;

Who asks a bishopric, asks no bad thing:

A coach does much an holy life adorn;

Then muzzle not the ox who treads the corn.

“Enough of these. Now tell us, if you can,

Is there that thing on earth, a happy man?”

Well then, the wondrous man I happy call,

Has but few wishes, and enjoys them all.

Blest in his fame, and in his fortune blest,

No craving void lies aching in his breast

His passions cool, his expectations low,

Can he feel want, or disappiontment know?

Yet if success be to his virtues giv’n,

Can relish that, and leave the rest to Heav’n.

What, tho’ for ever with our selves at strife,

None wishes to lay down his load of life.

The wretch who threescore suns has seen roll o’er,

His lungs with lacerating ulcers sore,

Sollicits Heav’n to add the other score.

To F1r 33

To day, indeed, his portion’s pain and sorrow;

But joy and ease are hoarded for tomorrow.

Soft smiling Hope! thou anchor of the mind!

The only resting-place the wretched find;

How dost thou all our anxious cares beguile!

And make the orphan, and the friendless smile.

All fly to thee, thou gentle dawn of peace!

The coward’s fortitude, the brave’s success,

The lover’s ease, the captive’s liberty,

The only flatt’rer of the poor and me.

With thee, on pleasure’s wings, thro’ life we’re born,

Without thee, wretched, friendless, and forlorn.

Possest of thee, the weary pilgrim strays

Thro’ barren desarts, and untrodden ways:

Thirsty and faint, his nerves new vigour strings,

And full of thee he quaffs immortal springs.

The martyr’d saint, whom anguish and the rod

Have prov’d, thro’ thee walks worthy of his God.

In vain are axes, flames, and tort’ring wheels;

He feels no torment, who no terrour feels:

F Thro’ F1v 34

Thro’ thee his well-try’d spirit upward springs,

And spurns at titles, scepters, thrones, and kings.

O full of thee! in quiet may I live,

The few remaining moments Heav’n shall give!

Come then, thou honest flatt’rer, to my breast!

Friend of my health, and author of my rest!

Thro’ thee, the future cloudless all appears,

A short, but smiling train of happy years.

Pass but this instant, storms and tempests cease,

And all beyond’s the promis’d land of peace.

No passion’s mists, by no false joys misled,

No ties forgot, no duties left unpaid,

No lays unfinish’d, and no aching head.

Born with a temper much inclin’d to ease,

Whatever gives me that, is sure to please.

I ask not riches; yet alike would fly

The friendless state of want and penury.

This wish howe’er be mine: to live unknown,

In some serene retreat, my time my own,

To all obliging, yet a slave to none.

Content F2r 35

Content, my riches; silence be my fame;

My pleasures, ease; my honours, your esteem.

And you, blest maid! who all you want possess,

Already to your self your happiness,

This modest wish methinks you now let fall,

“O give me Wisdom, Heav’n! and I have all.”

F2 In F2v 36

In Memory of the Rt. Hon. Lord Aubrey Beauclerk, Who was slain at Carthagena.

(Written in the year 17431743, at the request of his Lady.)

Shall so much worth in silence pass away,

And no recording muse that worth display?

Shall public spirit like the private die,

The coward with the brave promiscuous lie?

The hero’s toils should be the muses care,

In peace their guardian, and their shield in war:

Alike inspir’d, they mutual succours lend;

The Muses His, and He the Muses friend.

To me the solemn lyre you reach in vain,

The simple warbler of some idle strain.

What tho’ the hero’s fate the lay demands,

What tho’ impell’d and urg’d by your commands;

Yet F3r 37

Yet, weak of flight, in vain I prune the wing,

And, diffident of voice, attempt to sing.

What dreadful slaughter on the western coast!

How many gallant warriors Britain lost,

A British muse would willingly conceal;

But what the muse would hide, our tears reveal.

Pensive, we oft recal those fatal shores,

Where Carthagena lifts her warlike tow’rs.

High o’er the deep th’ embattl’d fortress heaves

Its awful front, its basis in the waves;

Without impregnable by nature’s care,

And arm’d within with all the rage of war.

Deep in oblivion sink th’ill-omen’d hour,

That call’d our legions to the baneful shore!

Where death, in all her horrid pomp array’d,

O’er the pale clime her direful influ’nce shed.

Want, famine, war, and pestilential breath,

All act subservient to the rage of death.

Those whom the wave, or fiercer war would spare,

Yeild to the clime, and sink in silence there:

No F3v 38

No friend to close their eyes, no pitying guest

To drop the silent tear, or strike the pensive breast

Here Douglas fell, the gallant and the brave!

Here much-lamented Watson found a grave.

Here, early try’d, and acting but too well,

The lov’d, ennobled, gen’rous Beauclerk fell.

Just as the spring of life began to bloom,

When ev’ry grave grew softer on the tomb;

In all that health and energy of youth,

Which promis’d honours of maturer growth;

When round his head the warriour laurel sprung,

And temp’rance brac’d the nerve which valour strung;

When his full heart expanded to the goal,

And promis’d victory had flush’d his soul,

He fell!—His country lost her earliest boast;

His family a faithful guardian lost;

His friend a safe companion; and his wife,

Her last resource, her happiness in life.

O ever honour’d, ever happy shade!

How well hast thou thy debt to virtue paid!

Brave, F4r 39

Brave, active, undismay’d in all the past;

Compos’d, intrepid, steady to the last

When half thy limbs, and more than half was lost

Of life, thy valour still maintain’d it’s post:

Gave the last signal After both his legs were shot off. See the account of
his death in the prose-inscription in Westminster-Abbey, written
by the author, under his Lady’s directions. The verse by
Dr. Young.
for thy country’s good,

And, dying, seal’d it with thy purest blood.

Say, what is Life? and wherefore was it giv’n?

What the design, the purpose mark’d by Heav’n?

Was it in lux’ry to dissolve the span,

To raise the animal, and sink the man?

In the soft bands of pleasure, idly gay,

To frolic the immortal gift away?

To tell the tale, or flow’ry wreath to bind,

Then shoot away, and leave no track behind?

Arise no duties from the social tie?

No kindred virtues from our native sky?

No F4v 40

No truths from reason, and the thought intense?

Nothing result from soul, but all from sense?

O thoughtless reptile, Man!—Born! yet ask why?

Truly, for something serious—Born to die.

Knowing this truth, can we be wise too soon?

And this once known, sure something’s to be done—

To live’s to suffer; act, is to exist;

And life, at best, a trial, not a feast:

Our bus’ness virtue; and when that is done,

We cannot sit too late, or rise too soon.

“Virtue!—What is it?—Whence does it arise!”

Ask of the brave, the social, and the wise;

Of those who study’d for the gen’ral good,

Of those who fought, and purchas’d it with blood;

Of those who build, or plant, or who design,

Ev’n those who dig the soil, or work the mine.

If yet not clearly seen, or understood;

Ask the humane, the pious, and the good.

To no one station, stage, or part confin’d,

No single act of body, or of mind;

But G1r 41

But whate’er lovely, just, or fit we call,

The fair result, the congregate of all.

The active mind, ascending by degrees,

Its various ties, relaions, duties sees:

Examines parts, thence rising to the whole,

Sees the connexion, chain, and spring of soul;

Th’ eternal source! from whose pervading ray

We caught the flame, and kindled into day.

Hence the collected truths coercive rise,

Oblige as nat’ral, or as moral ties.

Son, brother, country, friend demand our care;

The common bounty all partake, must share.

Hence virtue in its source, and in its end,

To God as relative, to Man as friend.

O friend to truth! to virtue! to thy kind!

O early call’d to leave these ties behind!

How shall the muse her vary’d tribute pay,

Indulge the tear, and not debase the lay!

Come, fair example of heroic truth!

Descend, and animate the British. youth:

G Now G1v 42

Now, when their country’s wrongs demand their care,

And proud Iberia meditates the war:

Now, while the trumpet sounds her shrill alarms,

And calls forth all her gen’rous sons to arms;

Pour all thy genius, all thy martial fire

O’er the brave youth, and ev’ry breast inspire.

Say, this is virtue, glory, honour, fame,

To rise from sloth, and catch the martial flame,

When fair occasion calls their vigour forth,

To meet the call, and vindicate its worth:

To rouse, to kindle, animate, combine,

Revenge their country’s wrongs, and think on Thine.

Go, happy shade! to where the good, and blest

Enjoy eternal scenes of bliss and rest:

While we below thy sudden farewel mourn,

Collect thy virtues, weeping o’er the urn;

Recal their scatter’d lustre as they past,

And see them all united in the last

So the bright orb, which gilds the groves and streams,

Mildly diffusive of his golden beams;

Drawn G2r 43

Drawn to a point, his strong concenter’d rays

More fulgent glow, and more intensely blaze.

And Thou! late partner of his softer hour,

Ordain’d but just to meet, and meet no more;

Say, with the virtues how each grace combin’d!

How brave, yet social! how resolv’d, yet kind!

With manners how sincere! polite with ease!

How diffident! and yet how sure to please!

Was he of ought but infamy afraid?

Was he not modest as the blushing maid?

Asham’d to flatter, eager to commend;

A gen’rous master, and a steady friend.

Humane to all, but warm’d when virtuous grief,

Or silent modesty, imply’d relief.

Pure in his principles, unshaken, just;

True to his God, and faithful to his trust

Beauclerk, farewel!—If, with thy virtues
warm’d,

And not too fondly, or too rashly charm’d,

G2 I strive G2v 44

I strive the tributary dirge to pay,

And form the pinion to the hasty lay;

The feeble, but well-meaning flight excuse:

Perhaps hereafter some more gen’rous muse,

Touch’d with thy fate, with genius at command,

May snatch the pencil from the female hand;

And give the perfect portrait, bold and free,

In numbers such as Young’s, and worthy Thee.

Song G3r 45

Song from the Opera of Elpidia.

Pupillette, Il mio core,

Vezzosette, Nel mirarvi,

Pur dormendo Sente ardore,

Voi splendete. Sente pena,

Siete belle, Si, dormite.

Ma ferite.

Thus translated. This and the following translation were the author’s
first essays in rhime; given her as an exercise by her
Italian master, when she was under sixteen: as the best apology
for several of the following pieces is, that they were written
under twenty.

Such radiant eyes who can withstand,

That ev’n in sleeping charm?

Or who resist the soft command,

Since thro’ their shades they warm?

Insensible how much they shine,

As ah! how much I grieve;

I greedy gaze, you sleep supine,

Nor know the wounds you give.

From G3v 46

From the same Opera.

Un vento lusinghier Cosi fortuna, e amor,

Tal or porta il nocchier, Fa scherno del mio cor;

Presso del lido; Mi guidan presso il porto,

Poi altro vento insido, Poi privo di conforto,

Lo balza in altro mar. Mi lascian naufragar.

Translation.

I.

When gentle whispers of a prosp’rous gale

Direct the sailor to the much-lov’d shore,

To court the breeze he hoists the swelling sail,

With hope elate he plies the lab’ring oar.

II.

When strait the treach’rous winds are taught to roar,

The angry waves obey the harsh command;

With stupid grief he views the less’ning shore,

And vainly strives to reach the distant land.

III.

Thus cruel fate, inconstant as the air,

Just shews me joys, that ah! I ne’er must taste;

And when I stretch my arms to grasp the fair,

She snatches from me the inviting feast

G4r 47

Written at the
Request of a young Divine,
to be Sent
To his mistress, with the Beggar’s Opera.

In matters of important faith,

You rev’rence what the Parson saith;

With equal gravity peruse

The dictates of the Parson’s Muse.

But, ere I tune my artless lays,

To sing your wit, and beauty’s praise;

Let me in grateful notes renew

My thanks for obligations due.

And who indebted would not stand

For favours from so fair a hand?

Whose sprightly wit can always charm,

Whose beauty never fails to warm;

Virtue G4v 48

Virtue and innocence your guide,

Your sex’s pattern, and their pride.

Adorn’d with all these charms, beware

How you exert your pow’r too far;

Mould into smiles each pretty feature,

And act the tyrant with good-nature.

For see! this Op’ra will reveal

How great a crime it is to steal!

What laws invented to keep under

People inclin’d to theft and plunder.

What pity ’tis we cannot boast

Of laws to regulate a Toast!

For if a wretch, who steals a horse,

Or civilly demands your purse,

Deserves poor Mackheath’s threaten’d fate,

And for example swings in state;

What shall we do with those, I pray,

Who steal poor people’s Hearts away?

Matri- H1r 49

Matrimony. The rhymes first put down by a gentleman, for the author
to fill up as she pleas’d.

Cloe, coquet and debon――air,

Haughty, flatter’d, vain, and――fair;

No longer obstinately ――coy,

Let loose her soul to dreams of ――joy.

She took the husband to her ――arms,

Resign’d her freedom and her ――charms;

Grew tame, and passive to his ――will,

And bid her eyes forbear to ――kill.

But mighty happy still at ――heart,

Nor room was there for pain, or ――smart.

At length she found the name of ――wife

Was but another word for ――strife.

That cheek, which late out-blush’d the ――rose,

Now with unwonted fury ――glows.

H Those H1v 50

Those tender words, “my dear, I ――die,”

The moving tear, and melting ――sigh,

Were now exchang’d for something ――new,

And feign’d emotions yeild to ――true.

Reproach, debate, and loss of ――fame,

Intrigues, diseases, duns, and ――shame.

No single fault He strives to ――hide;

Madam has virtue, therefore ――pride.

Thus both resent, while neither ――spares,

And curse, but cannot break their ――snares.

To Mrs. Clayton,
With a Hare.

A ’Squire who long had fed on ale,

(Or thick or clear, or mild or stale,

Concerns us not,) a hunting goes,

Last Thursday morn’, ere Phebus rose,

Headlong he rides full many a mile,

O’er many a hedge, and many a stile;

Dire H2r 51

Dire horror spread where’er he came,

And frighten’d all his Lordship’s game:

Nay hares and foxes yet unborn

May rue the hunting of that morn’.

A luckless Hare at length pass’d by;

The dogs take scent, away they fly;

Tears and intreaties come too late,

Poor puss, alas! submits to fate.

One boon she begs before she dies,

“And pray what’s that?” the ’Squire replies.

Only when this my house of clay,

Shall to the hounds become a prey,

(As soon, ah cruel hounds! it must,)

And these sad eyes return to dust;

May this my last request be heard,

And decently my corps interr’d

Within a concave basket’s womb,

With this inscription on my tomb;

“To Mrs. Clayton, Poland Street

Bear me, ye porters! while I’m sweet.”

H2 And H2v 52

And now farewel what once was mine!

With pleasure I these fields resign:

Happy, if that good Lady owns

My flesh was good, and picks my bones.

To Miss Clayton.

Occasion’d by her breaking an appointment to visit the Author.

Now ponder well, Miss Clayton dear,

And read your Bible book;

Lest you one day should rue the time

That you your promise broke.

’Twas on that bed where you have lain

Full many a restless night,

That you did say, nay swear it too—

But you’ve forgot it quite.

Your tender mother eke also,

Did ratify the same;

And strok’d me o’er the face, and vow’d—

Much more than I will name.

But H3r 53

But what are women’s oaths, and vows,

With which we make such pother?

Ah, trust us not, ye faithful swains!

Who cannot trust each other.

The swain may vow eternal love,

And yet that vow revoke;

For lovers vows alas! are made

On purpose to be broke.

The courtier breaks his word, ’tis true,

Or keeps it but in part;

But you, whene’er you break your word,

Perhaps may break a heart.

The chemist says he’ll turn to gold

Each thing he lights upon;

And so he will, whene’er he finds

The philosophic stone.

The lawyer says he’ll get your cause,

Then loses cause, and cost;

But there’s a maxim in the law,

Says, “Fees must not be lost”.

Allegiance H3v 54

Allegiance firm to gracious King

Swear parsons one and all:

Pity! Christ’s vicars, or of Bray,

Should ever swear at all.

Physicians too can promise fair,

In figures and in tropes —

Then let your faith and fees be great,

And while there’s life, there’s hopes.

But when all confidence is lost,

Small comfort hopes afford;

For whom hereafter can I trust,

Now You have broke your Word?

To the same.

On her desiring the Author to write a satire upon her.

Full of my self, resolv’d to rail,

I summon’d all my pride;

Ill-nature form’d th’ invidious tale,

And rage its aid supply’d.

Each H4r 55

Each fav’rite female vice I paint,

And every folly join:

In short, description is but faint;

A libel was each line.

The picture thus ill-nature fram’d,

By malice was apply’d;

Those real charms for which you’re fam’d,

I took most pains to hide.

But how unlike the finish’d draught

Of Clayton’s lovely mind!

Ev’n I who drew it, knew it not,

Nor could one likeness find.

Thus, dawber like, with low design,

I spoilt a beauteous frame;

And conscious of each faulty line,

Was forc’d to write your name.

In Eden thus, its shades among,

Ere vice could fix a stain,

The serpent roll’d his pointless tongue,

And hiss’d and twin’d in vain.

Again H4v 56

Again fair virtue loves to dwell

In your engaging form;

As pure as Eve before she fell,

As free from inward storm.

Keen satire now, with soften’d gaze,

Unvends her wrinkled brow;

And looks serenely gen’rous praise,

Who never prais’d till now.

Elegy,

On a favourite dog, suppos’d to be poison’d.

To Miss Molly Clayton.

O All ye spotted brutes that guard the Fair,

Lie on their laps, or wait upon their chair;

Ye Cupids, Cloes, Phillis’s or Shocks,

Ye who defend the houshold, or the flocks:

But chiefly ye in ladies’ chambers nurst,

Who leap at sweetmeats, snifting at a crust,

Come and bemoan poor Sparky’s poison’d dust

Hither I1r 57

Hither your little whimp’ring offspring lead,

And join the dismal howl, to wail him dead.

Shame on the wretch, who dealt the deadly
draught!

Thou human brute! whose very name’s a blot.

O that kind fate would poison all thy life

With some smart vixen, very much a Wife!

And when the end of thy chastisement’s near,

May’st thou want ratsbane then—to poison Her.

Whilst the cold drug was struggling hard with
life,

And sense awhile maintain’d the doubtful strife;

With much of gratitude and sorrow mix’d,

On me his scarce-perceiving eyes he fixt:

Then to these arms with stagg’ring steps did haste,

There, where he oft had slept, to sleep his last

The tear was vain; nor will I blush to own

A heart of softer workmanship than stone:

Yet lest the wise my weakness should reprove,

The tear I dropt to gratitude, and love.

I Now I1v 58

Now die, O Tabby! all ye fav’rites fall!

Dogs, parrots, squirrels, monkeys, beaus and all!

For thou wert all those tender names in one;

That thou could’st yet survive!—but thou art gone.

Ah! what avails thy honours now to trace!

Thy high descent, thy ancient royal race!

Thy length of ears proclaim’d the gen’rous seed,

Hereditary heir of Charles’s breed;

And had not William chang’d the face of things,

Mightst still have bark’d beneath the throne of kings.

No more shalt thou, with each revolving day,

Expect the warm repast of milk and tea;

Nor when the balmy slumber I prolong,

Ascend the stairs, and wake me with thy tongue:

No more shall thy discerning nose descry

The sav’ry steams, that speak the dinner nigh.

Soon didst thou wake, and ev’ry cat assail,

Then, strutting, shake the honours of thy tail.

With look importunate, and begging face,

Scarce could he wait the tediousness of grace:

But 12r 59

But that perform’d, he barks exulting round;

The cats are scar’d, the neighb’ring roofs resound.

Whether by instinct, or by reason taught,

His just conclusions spoke the use of thought.

When smart toupèée exhal’d the soft perfume,

He smelt a Beau, and sullen left the room.

Or when the ruddy ’Squire grew loud and vain,

And practis’d all the noises of the plain;

With sneaking step, at distance he’d retire,

Then mount his tail, and ev’n out-bark the wellmouth’d
’Squire.

But most the Fool was his invet’rate foe,

That thing all over talk, all over beau:

Well he distinguish’d ’twixt brocade and sense,

And growl’d contempt beneath the sev’n-fold fence.

O ever-watchful! ever-faithful guard!

No more shall I thy gratitude reward.

That cream, that bread and butter soak’d in tea,

Is now lapp’d up as puss’s lawful fee:

12 While 12v 60

While she, proud vixen! often seems to say,

“Peace to his shade!—each dog must have his day.”

Yet Thou, his mistress once, and late his friend,

Awhile the softly-falling tear suspend:

And think, whene’er your Lark shall be no more,

How vain are tears, since Spark was wept before.

Or rather, how uncertain life’s short date,

Since ev’n your fav’rites must submit to fate.

But could your smile, which sure gives life to all,

Back from the grave his much-lov’d form recal;

Then should these hands the welcome office pay,

To wipe the dust from his reviving clay:

With pleasure guard him from a world of ill,

And aid his vengeance at the pois’ner’s heel—

Ah! smile then; try, exert your saving pow’r!

Be Spark your present now, as once before.

Rhymes, 13r 61

Rhymes, to Miss Charlot Clayton.

As Damon was pensively walking one day,

Three pretty tight lasses he met in his way:

And who should they be, that were taking the air,

But Nelly, and Molly, and Charlot so fair.

The swain, who to beauty had never been blind,

Thought this was the season to tell ’em his mind:

But first he debated, to which lovely lass

He should offer his tenders, and open his case.

That Nelly was pretty he could not deny,

But Molly, he thought, had the sprightliest eye;

So on her his affections they rested awhile,

’Till Charlot appear’d, with a look and a smile:

With a look and a smile which sure mischief had done,

Had the swain been encounter’d by Charlot alone.

Perplext in his thought, and disturb’d in his breast,

And unable to tell which bright lass he lov’d best;

He folded his arms, to the grove he retir’d,

And decently on the green willow expir’d.

To 13v 62

To Damon’s sad fate lend a pitying ear,

For three at a time what poor mortal could bear?

One alone, trust me Charlot, had made him rejoice,

And the swain been quite happy—“With what?”

Hopson’ An admirer of that Lady’s. s choice.

On one of her Eyes.

The orders giv’n, John saddles Grey;

The nymph ascends: the pad so gay,

First neighs his joy, then trots away.

To that fam’d town Abingdon. the fair one rides,

Where Nancy, harmless nymph! resides.

That town so fam’d in Lent for figs,

For custards, conventicles, eggs;

Renown’d of old for scandal picking,

For bottled cyder, and cold chicken.

How often there have Oxford smarts,

Regal’d their nymphs on goosb’ry tarts!

While Mrs. Mary at the Bear,

Call’d all the chamber-maids to stare.

Thither 14r 63

Thither she rides, as authors say,

To sip with Nancy harmless tea;

And o’er their cups to have a fling

At this, or t’other aukward thing:

But with no other earthly view,

Except to chat an hour or two.

The sun had run thro’ half his course,

Ere Charlot ventur’d to take horse;

And near th’ horizon shot his ray,

Ere she a second time mounts Grey.

But, O dire fate! O sad mischance!

The high-fed beast begins to prance;

Shakes his curl’d neck, disdains the ground,

And longs to scale yon quickset mound.

She shrieks—in vain—she tumbles o’er!

While heedless John jogg’d on before.

Fie on the brute! and may’st thou bear

No more the witty, or the fair;

But doom’d the country round to stroll,

With pedlar’s pack, or beggar’s trull.

And 14v 64

And here my muse, in mournful wise,

Relate how Charlot weeps and sighs:

Well might she weep, well might she sigh,

For when she look’d, she miss’d an eye.

So have I seen, in cloudless nights,

The sky bedeck’d with radiant lights,

Thus gleam and glitter from afar,

Till in a jelly drops a star.

Now John was set to search the ground,

John search’d indeed, no eye was found.

Explor’d each flow’r the fairies climb on,

Careful as Indian slave for di’mond;

But had he Argos’ hundred eyes,

He’d ne’er discover where it lies.

Some folks, ’tis true, believe ’twas hurl’d

To multiply the starry world;

And say, those babies in her eyes

Inhabit now the azure skies.

Whitesides, A famous Astronomer. I’m told, was seen to stare

Last night, with more than usual care;

And K1r 65

And has e’er since been plodding on it,

From whence could come that glitt’ring planet;

That star, that made there such a bustle,

And Venus from her place would justle.

Now this is only what folks guest;

But trust the Muse, for she knows best

Venus, the Charlot of the skies,

Was always piqu’d at her bright eyes;

And saw with pain, at Charlot’s throne,

Such crouds of vot’ries, not her own.

For which good reason, when it dropt,

The goddess stoop’d, and pick’d it up:

And to repair the nymph’s disgrace,

Clapt her own orbit in the place.

On Her Birth-Day, --12-11December 11.

The shortest day, and longest night,

Gave birth to all that’s fair and bright.

So from the cloud of blackest dye,

The brightest lightnings always fly.

K On K1v 66

On the Reasonableness of
Her coming to the Oxford Act.

Beauty, the bounty of indulgent Heav’n,

To favour’d Maids of mortal race was giv’n;

Not to retire with to some lonely scene,

But to shine forth, and to be seen of Men.

The sun thus radiant with diffusive light,

In his own native day appears most bright,

And leaves the moon the empire of the night.

By his example, Charlot, shine away;

Be thou the goddess, as he’s god of day:

So shall Oxonians own thy sacred pow’r,

And worship Thee, as Persians Him adore.

Whilst Danae liv’d immur’d within her tow’r,

None but old Jove confess’d her gentle pow’r:

But had the hapless maid dwelt always there,

Who could have said she was, or was not fair?

Her K2r 67

Her charms had been unheard of in the throng;

Nor Horace left us his immortal song.

The sea-born goddess, rising from the main,

Unheeded might have dabbled there again;

Had not Apelles snatch’d the faultless dame,

And made her charms immortal as his fame.

’Tis therefore common prudence to appear,

That some Apelles may record you fair;

Lest future dawbers should the task essay,

And, like dull R—smear your charms away.

Come then, and leave those unfrequented shades,

To dirty shepherds, and to homely maids:

To our Athenian Theatres repair,

And let the learn’d and gay admire thee there.

Inspire, and then reward some gen’rous youth,

Nurs’d in the arms of science, and of truth:

For trust me, Charlot, who no flatt’ry mean—

To be admir’d, you only need be seen.

K2 To K2v 68

To the same.

Written at Fern-Hill, Her father’s seat in Windsor Forest. while dinner was waiting
for her.

In imitation of modern Pastoral.

I.

Haste, Charlot, haste; and come away,

For John his cloth ere long must lay.

Come, lest the dinner should be spoil’d,

The beef’s already too much boil’d;

The very turkey on the spit

Cries out, make haste and pick a bit.

Cook’s rage and soup have each boil’d o’er,

And thrice the wicked creature swore.

Then, Charlot, haste, and come away,

For dinner will no longer stay.

II.

Hungry I am, ’tis true, and cold;

Yet ne’ertheless should I be told,

That K3r 69

That dinner’s on the table set,

And thou not come from Denham Seat of Sir William Bowyer. yet;

Tho’ hungry as a horse I be,

And twice as cold as charity,

Yet hear me, Charlot, when I swear,

That very dinner I’d forbear:

And may I feel thy utmost ire,

If I’d go near the smallest fire.

Then, Charlot haste and come away,

For hunger’s sharp, and will not stay.

III.

Didst thou but know, how Puss and I

Together for thy presence sigh,

Together for thy absence mourn,

In murm’ring sounds for thy return;

Thou surely woud’st pack up thy awls,

And hear at least, when D’oman The Cat’s name. calls.

Nay more, the Major bid me say,

That he impatient at thy stay,

Had mounted Crop, and jogg’d away.

Then Charlot, haste, out strip the wind,

Lest love grow deaf, as well as blind.

K3v 70

IV.

Sarah in vain has scrubb’d your room,

Her gentle mistress is not come;

In vain clean linnen she has spread,

Upon your spotless virgin bed.

Thrice has she tumbled up the stairs,

And that’s good luck the maid avers.

But yet, I ween, we’re ne’er the near,

If Charlot’s deaf, and will not hear.

Puss slighted and abandon’d may

Sit purring all the live-long day:

Sarah may tumble up or down,

May break a limb, or soil her gown:

The Major too, in doleful dump,

May take the faithful lover’s jump:

And I may starve, without relief—

But see, she comes!—John, bring the beef.

The K4r 71

The Spider.

The sun had left the western road,

And drove his steeds to rest;

When Charlot on her bed was laid,

With downy sleep opprest

Full o’er her head a Spider dwelt,

Secure from brush or broom,

By heedless Sarah undescry’d,

Whene’er she swept the room.

This Spider’s citadel was large,

And cunningly contriv’d,

T’ ensnare the heedless wand’ring fly,

Upon whose spoils he thriv’d.

Now bent on prey, one luckless night,

This bloody-minded wretch,

Peep’d from his battlements above,

Nor dream’d—Harm watch, harm catch.

He K4v 72

He Charlot spy’d full fast asleep,

Her milk-white bosom bare,

A fresh’ning bloom o’er-spread her cheek,

And loosely fell her hair.

Charm’d with the sight, his bowels yearn,

From whence he spins a thread,

On which he glides as swift as thought

Down to the sleeping maid.

So grandsire Jove, transported much

By some fair mortal’s charms,

Descended on a sun-beam down,

And sunk into her arms.

And now he travels o’er her breast

With wonder and delight;

And on her tucker, in a fold,

Repos’d his limbs all night.

Snug was the word, and up he rolls

His carcase full of ill;

So round and black, she might have took

His Worship for a pill.

But L1r 73

But now the nymph begins to wake,

And lift her radiant eyes;

Nor can I here in language paint

How great was her surprize.

But this I will affirm, had she

An armed Man espy’d there,

’Twou’d not have scar’d her half so much

As this vile lurking Spider.

In short, she shriek’d, and Sarah ran

Impatient to her aid;

But when she saw the hideous thing,

She likewise was dismay’d.

At length, with equal courage arm’d,

They dash’d him on the floor;

Lye there, quoth Charlot, miscreant vile!

And welter in thy gore.

Yet, ere I take thy forfeit life,

This full conviction gain,

That fraud, and guile, and cobweb art,

May flourish long in vain.

L The L1v 74

The sage advice the Spider heard,

As on the floor he lay;

But just as Sarah reach’d the tongs,

He wisely —march’d away.

Heaven.

To Stella.

Occasion’d by her asking the Author what hers consisted in, as they were viewing the prospect from Cooper’s Hill.

Let learn’d Divines, to whom ’tis giv’n

To search the mysteries of Heav’n,

Say, if their science can devise

Where this thrice happy region lies:

Say, what the sacred books declare

Of joys unknown to eye or ear;

Joys, which the busy mind of man

Strives fully to explore—in vain.

This awful theme ’tis theirs to preach,

(O may we treasure what they teach!)

My muse shall sing in Windsor’s shade,

The Heaven of a harmless maid.

Stella L2r 75

Stella describe the pleasing scene,

And shew me where your joys begin.

Has Love e’er touch’d your tender heart?

In Damon’s pains have you no part?

Has no unguarded look betray’d

That Stella is a mortal Maid?

Did ne’er that thing call’d female pride

Conceal, what ’twas a pain to hide?

If not, we safely may aver,

That Stella’s Heaven is not here.

Some in ambition place their bliss,

And to be great—is happiness.

Ambition, luxury and pride,

Could ne’er in Stella’s heart reside.

And yet she loves a little state;

A coach and six she does not hate:

But never falls into a swoon,

When aukward Betty pins her gown.

Can dine extremely well at two,

As other sober people do;

L2 But L2v 76

But yet, for reasons good, can wait

The modish hours of sev’n or eight.

Does not directly hate quadrille;

But likes to play, or to fit still,

Just as the Beaus and Ladies will.

At church can pass an hour or two,

With much good breeding in her pew;

Altho’ the op’ra does not fill,

And side boxes are empty still.

Hence some have thought, when Stella there

Has lifted up her eyes in pray’r,

(Have thought indeed! at six and sev’n)

That ’mongst the stars lay Stella’s Heav’n;

But folks may think what e’er they will,

None but the Muse, I’m sure, can tell.

You know what flatt’ring bards devise

About the Heav’n, that’s in your eyes;

And likewise how they call your breast

The blissful seat of joy and rest:

Your looks, say they, are all divine,

Immortal pleasures round you shine;

And L3r 77

And having o’er your beauties run,

They make their rhyme, and so have done.

Now, as concerning this your breast—

These truths in metaphor exprest,

Believe me, Stella, are no jest

For, to be serious, after all,

Whatever mortals pleasure call,

Whatever happiness we know,

To our own hearts alone we owe.

Your easy wit, and chearful air

A harmony within declare;

Which to a gen’rous nature join’d,

Brings sweet content, and peace of mind.

In vain thro’ various scenes we roam,

The muse bids Stella look at home:

And let her wander where she will,

Her Heav’n she’ll bear about her still,

To Windsor’s shades, or Cooper’s Hill.

To L3v 78

To the same.

On her parting with the first copy of Heaven, and sending for another.

Say, Stella, didst thou never look

Into that great, that holy book,

Which on the parson’s desk is spread,

And once a week, at least, is read;

There, Stella, didst thou never see,

How Angels lost their Heav’n, like Thee?

And for a punishment beside,

We’re doom’d for ever to reside

In hell, the fittest place for pride.

Reflect on this—Yet lest thy heart

Should with a thought so horrid start,

Lest thy soft nature should relent,

And Stella for her crime repent;

Know, that the guilt for which they fell,

Justly deserv’d the hottest hell.

Thou L4r 79

Thou thro’ good nature may’st have err’d,

And therefore shall thy pray’r be heard;

Thy ev’ry wish shall be obtain’d,

And Paradise with ease regain’d.

After the Small Pox.

When skillful traders first set up,

To draw the people to their shop,

They strait hang out some gaudy sign,

Expressive of the goods within.

The Vintner has his boy and grapes,

The Haberdasher thread and tapes,

The Shoemaker exposes boots,

And Monmouth Street old tatter’d suits.

So fares it with the nymph divine;

For what is Beauty but a Sign?

A face hung out, thro’ which is seen

The nature of the goods within.

Thus the coquet her beau ensnares

With study’d smiles, and forward airs:

The L4v 80

The graver prude hangs out a froun

To strike th’ audacious gazer down;

But she alone, whose temp’rate wit

Each nicer medium can hit,

Is still adorn’d with ev’ry grace,

And wears a sample in her face.

What tho’ some envious folks have said,

That Stella now must hide her head,

That all the stock of beauty’s gone,

And ev’n the very sign took down:

Yet grieve not at the fatal blow;

For if you break a while, we know,

’Tis bankrupt like, more rich to grow.

A fairer sign you’ll soon hang up,

And with fresh credit open shop:

For nature’s pencil soon shall trace,

And once more finish off your face,

Which all your neighbours shall out-shine,

And of your Mind remain the Sign.

Sublime M1r 81

Sublime Strains.

On the Author’s walking to visit Stella, in a windy
morning, at Privy Garden.

O Nymph divine! as op’ning morning fair!

Bright as the sun! yet lighter than the air!

Harmless as bleating lambs, or mountain hinds!

Yet more uncertain than the whistling winds!

Where shall we find, or fix your resting place?

Now here, now there, eluding still the chace.

O’ tis in vain, as ancient proverbs say,

“To seek a needle in a load of hay”;

As vain it is to fix your certain bound:

Like Happiness, you’re no where to be found.

And yet I sought you where soft pleasure dwells,

And mirth and ease each low-born care expels.

Pleasure, thou soft retreat! but hard to find,

And op’ning only to the patient mind.

Thro’ various alleys, perilous and dark,

My way I shape, and ev’ry foot-step mark;

M Lest M1v 82

Lest thro’ some passage, elbow’d to and fro,

I feel the pond’rous weight of chairman’s toe.

Meanwhile the blust’ring wind the deep deforms,

And Boreas vext your slave with all his storms.

Like a small skiff my little bark was hurl’d,

Toss’d to and fro amidst a laughing world;

And, what is worse—my tresses all uncurl’d.

Yet, spite of these, I boldly ventur’d forth,

And bid defiance to the surly North.

By You, my Polar Star, awhile I steer,

But that once lost, towards St. James’s veer;

There, there I land, no more of winds the sport,

And found the gallant Lovelace safe in port.

The sailor thus, in search of India’s coast,

His reck’ning failing, and his compass lost,

Some hospitable shore at length in view,

Pushes to land, with all his jovial crew:

There, pleas’d, the myrtle’s fragrant breath inhales,

Nor envies India, or her spicy gales.

The M2r 83

The Heel-piece of her Shoe.

Stella requiring more rhymes, and the Author at
a loss for a subject

Swains, of high or low degree,

Poets, Peers, whate’er you be;

Ye who pen the lofty lay,

Or who sigh and nothing say;

Ye who talk of flames and darts,

Radiant eyes, and marble hearts;

Say, (for Lovers never lie,)

Are ye half so blest as I?

All the live-long happy day,

Lo! at Stella’s feet I lay;

And at night when she’s undress’d,

Next her bed behold I’m plac’d.

Swains, can you these favours see,

And not envy happy Me?

M2 If M2v 84

If the mazy dance she tread,

I sustain the tripping maid;

Easy tho’ to all, and free,

Yet she foots it but with Me.

Or at church, or at the play,

If she ogle, or she pray,

When she trips along the meads,

Or on Persian carpets treads,

In the sprightly month of May,

(Fatal month! some authors say,)

I both morning, noon, and night,

Order all her steps aright.

Who durst say, when I was by,

Stella ever trod awry?

Me she’ll ever find a friend,

Her support unto my end.

If a pilgrim she should go

Where the streams of Jordan flow,

I’ll sustain her in the way,

Where the streams of Jordan stray.

Weary tho’ and faint she be,

All her cares shall rest. on Me.

Need M3r 85

Need I say that Stella’s fair?—

Venus, in her shape and air:

Cruel tho’, nor does she know

Half the pain I undergo.

Tall and comely tho’ she be,

Owes she not an inch to Me?

Me, on whom she treads, and tramples;

O the force of ill examples!

Die, forsaken lovers! die;

Favour’d less, tho’ true as I.

As the needle to the steel,

So’s the Heel-piece to the heel;

True and constant, and will never

From her Shoe, or Slipper sever,

Till the Sole, as ah! it must,

Seeks its resting place in dust

Swains, if still you envy Me,

(As from envy who is free!)

Come, pour out your last adieus;

Die—and Heel-piece Stella’s Shoes.

On M3v 86

On her Birth-day,

Being the --12-1111th of December.

Why this day’s shorter than the rest,

A modern bard full well has guest

The sun who shines the year about,

And ev’ry lesser light puts out,

This day submits, and will not rise,

But lends his rays to Stella’s eyes.

Another.

Since this day comes but once a year,

Let ev’ry joy with it appear.

Come then, and let us laugh and sport,

And merry be it, tho’ ’tis short.

Nor will I, Stella, now advise;

A word’s sufficient to the wise.

Yet Beauty’s reign, the learned say,

Is shorter than the shortest day.

Her M4r 87

Her Epitaph.

Which the Author hopes will live as long as
she does.

Here rests poor Stella’s restless part:

A riddle! but I lov’d her heart.

Thro’ life she rush’d a headlong wave,

And never slept, but in her grave.

Some wit, I think, and worth she had:

No saint indeed, nor yet quite mad;

But laugh’d, built castles, rhym’d and sung,

“Was ev’ry thing, but nothing long.”

Some honest truths she would let fall;

But much too wise to tell you all.

From thought to thought incessant hurl’d,

Her scheme was—but to rule the world.

At morn she won it with her eyes,

At night , when beauty sick’ning sighs,

Like the mad Macedonian cry’d,

What, no more worlds, ye Gods!—and dy’d.

The M4v 88

The Lass of the Hill.

Humbly inscribed to
Her Grace the Dutchess of Marlborough.

I.

On the brow of a Hill a young Shepherdess
dwelt,

Who no pangs of ambition or love had e’er felt:

For a few sober maxims still ran in her head,

That ’twas better to earn, ere she eat her brown bread:

That to rise with the lark was conducive to health,

And, to folks in a cottage, contentment was wealth.

II.

Now young Roger, who liv’d in the valley below,

Who at Church and at Market was reckon’d a Beau;

Had many times try’d o’er her heart to prevail,

And would rest on his pitch-fork to tell her his tale:

With his winning behaviour he melted her heart;

But, quite artless herself, she suspected no art.

He N1r 89

III.

He had sigh’d and protested, had kneel’d and implor’d,

And could lye with the grandeur and air of a Lord:

Then her eyes he commended in language well drest,

And enlarg’d on the torments that troubled his breast;

’Till his sighs and his tears had so wrought on her mind’

That in downright compassion to love she inclin’d.

IV.

But as soon as he’d melted the ice of her breast,

All the flames of his Love in a moment decreast;

And at noon he goes flaunting all over the vale,

Where he boasts of his conquest to Susan and Nell:

Tho’ he sees her but seldom, he’s always in haste,

And if ever he mentions her, makes her his jest

V.

All the day she goes sighing, and hanging her head,

And her thoughts are so pester’d, she scarce earns
her bread;

The whole village cry shame when a milking she goes,

That so little affection is shew’d to the cows:

But she heeds not their railing, e’en let e’em rail on,

And a fig for the cows, now her sweet-heart is gone.

N Now N1v 90

VI.

Now beware, ye young Virgins of Britain’s gay isle,

How ye yield up your hearts to a look and a smile:

For Cupid is artful, and Virgins are frail,

And you’ll find a false Roger in every vale,

Who to court you, and tempt you will try all his
skill;

But remember the Lass on the brow of the Hill.

Consolatory Rhymes to Mrs. East,

On the Death of her Canary Bird.

Since Kings, and Queens, and Duchesses
must die,

And crowns and frokins undistinguish’d lie;

The Monarch justled by the saucy slave,

And next a Queen’s perhaps a Milk-maid’s grave;

Since all their flight to other climes must wing,

And even signor Boschi cease to sing;

Grieve not your Bird: for tho’ no more his throat

Melodious swells the sweetly-tortur’d note;

Improperly N2r 91

Improperly we measure life by breath,

He ceases not to be, who tastes of death.

When life goes out, the Samian sages say,

We only change our tenement of clay.

The Quack, once fam’d for curing ev’ry ill,

Lurks in a bolus, or informs a pill.

The learned Dunce, whom science seem’d to shun,

Hums thro’ his next dull stage a bagpipe’s drone;

While Wits, more pert, the livelier notes become,

And teaze, and torture still the tuneless hum.

The wretch, who fatten’d on his neighbour’s spoil,

Now crawls a spider, swoln with fraud and guile:

A softer form the gentle mind puts on,

While harden’d hearts are petrify’d to stone.

Perhaps your Captive now, on wings sublime,

Once more beholds his friends, and native clime;

Sees all his little race about him throng,

And tells his raptures in a sweeter song:

Or else his soul some Farinelli warms,

And crouded theatres confess his charms;

His cage, his silken wings, and untaught note,

(All but his Mistress’ favours) quite forgot.

N2 So N2v 92

So some poor Exile, long in bondage kept,

Dead to his friends, and ev’n by strangers wept,

Disdaining bondage, tho’ in chains of gold,

Breaks thro’ his prison, by resentment bold:

Yet if some gen’rous friend, of soul sincere,

Soften’d his fate, or smooth’d his bed of care,

Deep in his heart the grateful sense remains,

And when he thinks on him, forgets his chains.

Harmonious shade! what honours can atone

Thy music murder’d, and thy spirit gone!

By thy false guardian left to foes at large,

O most unworthy the important charge!—

What tho’ no solemn mutes, of ghastly shape,

Croud silent round thee, and look sad in crape;

Yet shall thy Mistress’ tear adorn thy hearse,

And all the Muse can offer, Fame and Verse:

Fresh flow’rs shall deck thee with their earliest bloom,

And yearly roses blossom on thy tomb.

There too shall mournful Philomel complain,

And on thy stone these lasting notes remain;

“Beneath N3r 93

“Beneath in silence sleeps, and ceas’d his song,

The Farinelli of the feather’d throng:

Of manners simple, uncorrupt of life,

A friend to harmony, a foe to strife.

This turf his Mistress to his mem’ry ow’d,

And for his songs the gen’rous tear bestow’d.”

Holt Waters. A Tale.

Extracted from the Natural History of Berkshire.

Two Nymphs of chaste Diana’s train,

Both fair, and tolerably vain,

One morning early left their beds,

And said their pray’rs, and drest their heads.

The coach was order’d, in they step,

Not well awake, nor quite asleep:

Of well-dress’d Beaus a brace they chuse,

At once for ornament, and use.

Their conversation need I tell?

Or who spoke most, or which spoke well?

Or N3v 94

Or how it ran of various things,

Of Queens and grottos, wars and Kings,

Of fortune-tellers, or the fashion,

Of marriage, or predestination—?

In short, they settled all the nation.

Not many miles the Nymphs were come,

Ere Cloe wish’d she’d stay’d at home.

Her lively colour comes and goes,

The lilly struggled, and the rose.

“I wish!”—Wish on, thou gentle maid;

Of Wishes need one be afraid?

“Why then”—and whisper’d something low;

But what, or when, or where, or how,

None but the Muse shall ever know.

Yet trust me, Prudes, it was no more,

Than you or I have wish’d before:

Bright Emily, of royal race,

Might wish the same in such a case.

In short,—the lady—but no matter:

I’ll never tell one earthly creature.

For N4r 95

For why should I, in lays forbidden,

Unveil what Custom would have hidden?

But lest the Beaus, for Beaus might blame,

Should hear, and after hurt her fame,

On each she cast a languid look,

And thus the Heroes twain bespoke.

What vast variety of woe

Does Jove let fall on folks below!

Poor Kitty, who but yesterday

Was all so giggling, and so gay,

Is pouring now the frantic tear,

And bares her breast, and beats the air:

All the comfort from her bosom’s fled,

For ah! her Parroquet is dead.

Now ’tis but civil, as I guess,

To visit people in distress;

If not for love, in spite, or joke,

To see how horridly they look:

For grief the fairest cheek will stain,

And make folks look extremely plain.

“Then N4v 96

Then wonder not, if I alight,

To fo what’s decent, and what’s right;

To visit first the hapless maid,

Then pay the rite to Polly’s shade:

Whose grave I’ll sprinkle—with my tears,

And mix my friendly drops with hers.

Excuse me then—I can no more—

Here, Thomas, stop; undo the door.

Tom stops, and Cloe soon alights,

Looks pleas’d, but full of fears and frights.

“O no, Sir Fopling!—You’ll excuse it;

Time’s precious, and we must not lose it.”

Away she flies, as swift as wind,

And leaves the lover far behind.

At length a little farm she sees,

Surrounded by a clump of trees;

No yelping Cur was heard from far,

The door had neither bolt nor bar:

So O1r 97

So in she goes, and looks around,

But no expedient’s to be found.

What shall she do? Her wants are pressing,

And speedily require redressing.

In haste she trips it to the dairy,

In hopes to find or Nan or Mary;

But not a living soul was there,

Nor cat to squall, nor mouse to stir.

In short, the bus’ness must be done;

Time to consider there was none.

The cream-pot first she fill’d with liquor,

Fit for the thorax of the Vicar.

Nay Jove himself, the skies protector,

Would call such liquor heav’nly Nectar.

So, in a grot, I’ve seen enthron’d

Some river goddess, osier-crown’d,

Pour all her copious urns around.

Hence plenteous crops our harvests yield,

And Ceres laughs thro’ all the field.

A pan of milk, unskimm’d its cream,

Did next receive the bounteous stream;

O The O1v 98

The bounteous stream in bubbles breaks,

And many a curious eddy makes.

O stop, dear nymph; alack! forbear;

Spoil not our cheese! our butter spare!

What will poor Gooddy Baucis say,

To see her milk all turn’d to whey?

The nymph was deaf, the noise was loud,

And who hear less than those that shou’d?

So in an aqueduct I’ve stood,

And heard aghast the headlong flood:

What tho’ with Stentor’s lungs you call,

I hear you not, I’m deafness all.

The rite perform’d, herself much eas’d,

And Polly’s gentle shade appeas’d,

Back to her company she flies,

Quite unobserv’d by vulgar eyes.

The muse indeed behind her stood,

And heard the noise, and saw the flood.

But when poor Baucis from the field

Return’d, and saw her vessels fill’d;

How O2r 99

How did she lift her hands, and stare!

And cry’d—

“What Fairy has been here?

I left this milk-pan yet to skim,

And saw no bubbles on the brim!

My cream-pot too was hardly full,

But now it over-flows the bowl!

Yet no disorder I can view,

No six-pence left in Kattern’s shoe:

My pewter on the shelves have slept,

The house too’s neither brusht nor swept.

Well; guard us all, I say, from evil!

For mighty watchful is the Devil.”

A large brown jugg stood there apart,

The reservoir of near a quart;

The liquor pure, as amber fine,

But stock’d with particles saline.

Now Baucis, who came hot from work,

Was very dry, her dinner pork;

One draught, cry’d she, of good sound beer!

I’m thirsty, and no creature near—

Let’s see what Heav’n has sent us here.

O2 She O2v 100

She smelt it, and no full-blown rose

Sent half the fragrance to her nose.

It looks, thinks she, like cowslip wine,

And if not sweet, I’m sure ’tis fine:

However, ’tis a sin to waste it,

I’ll e’en take heart o’ grace, and taste it—

She drank, and down the liquor went;

“A little, and therewith content,

We learn, says she, from good St. Paul:

And sure Content is all in all!

Our beer is dead, but no great matter,

’Tis better still than common water.”

We poor folks must make shift, ’tis true;

Howe’er, to give the dev’l his due,

E’en let him bake, but never brew.

Soliloquy, on an empty Purse.

Alas! my Purse! how lean and low!

My silken Purse! what art thou now!

Once I beheld—but stocks will fall—

When both thy Ends had wherewithal.

When O3r 101

When I within thy slender fence

My fortune plac’d, and confidence;

A Poet’s fortune!—not immense:

Yet, mixt with keys, and coins among,

Chinkt to the melody of song.

Canst thou forget when, high in air,

I saw thee flutt’ring at a fair?

And took thee, destin’d to be sold,

My lawful Purse, to have and hold?

Yet us’d sof oft to disembogue,

No prudence could thy fate prorogue.

Like wax thy silver melted down,

Touch but the brass, and lo! ’twas gone:

And gold would never with thee stay,

For gold had wings, and flew away.

Alas, my Purse! yet still be proud,

For see the Virtues round thee croud!

See, in the room of paltry wealth,

Calm Temp’rance rise, the nurse of Health;

And Self-denial, slim and spare,

And Fortitude, with look severe;

O3v 102

And Abstinence, to leanness prone,

And Patience worn to skin and bone:

Prudence, and Foresight on thee wait,

And Poverty lies here in state!

Hopeless her spirits to recruit,

For ev’ry virtue is a mute.

Well then, my Purse, thy sabbaths keep;

Now Thou art empty, I shall sleep.

Now silver sounds shall thee molest,

Nor golden dreams disturb my breast

Safe shall I walk the streets along,

Amidst temptations thick and strong;

Catch’d by the eye, no more shall stop

At Wildey’s toys, or Pinchbeck’s shop;

Nor, cheap’ning Payne’s ungodly books,

Be drawn aside by pastry cooks:

But fearless now we both may go

Where Ludgate’s Mercers bow so low;

Beholding all with equal eye,

Nor mov’d at—“Madam, what d’ye buy?”

Away O4r 103

Away, far hence each worldly care!

Nor dun, nor pick-purse shalt Thou fear,

Nor flatt’rer base annoy My ear.

Snug shalt thou travel thro’ the mob,

For who a Poet’s purse will rob?

And softly sweet, in garret high,

Will I thy virtues magnify;

Out-soaring flatt’rers stinking breath,

And gently rhyming rats to death.

Written in an
Ivory Book
For the Honourable Miss Hamilton;

To be sent to her Mamma.

No system this of deep devotion,

A Book indeed, without a notion:

And yet in these fair leaves you’ll find

An emblem of my tender Mind;

Both spotless, ready to receive

Each kind impression you shall give.

Extem- O4v 104

Extempore.
on a
Drawing ofFrances Thynne, Wife of Algernon, Earl of Hertford. the Countess of Hertford’s,
now Duchess of Somerset
.

This piece to latest times when shown,

Hertford, shall dignify your own;

Where as a visitor you came,

Just shew’d yourself, and left your name.

So, Prior says, some years ago,

Apelles left his name at Co.

Learn hence, ye Nymphs of Britain’s isle,

How Hertford writes, and mark her style.

Answer to a Letter
From the Hon. Miss Lovelace.

As half resign’d, in Clayton’s green retreats,

Once more I trod the Muse’s sacred seats,

Pleas’d where the rose its purple bloom display’d,

And calm’d where poplars spread their awful shade;

Just P1r 105

Just as my heart had beat itself to rest,

Your lines arriv’d: the lyre I snatch’d in haste,

And emulation fir’d my panting breast

Henceforth, I cry’d, let Glory be my aim,

For Hertford smiles, whose very smiles are Fame.

The pow’r of song invok’d, my voice I raise,

And all my soul was tun’d to Hertford’s praise:

Whether in verse melodiously she flows,

Or the bold image paints in nervous prose;

Whether once more the sister arts she joins,

And gives to Reuben’s colours, Titian’s lines;

Or, sweetly-studious, bends the thoughtful brow,

Or smiles indulgent o’er her yet lov’d Rowe;

Or, in the private scene, retir’d from view,

(That scene so oft with pleasure mark’d by You)

Still as she came, my voice grew faint with fear,

So graceful She, so amiably severe.

What could I more?—Adieu ye tuneful throng!

Farewel the sounding lyre, and raptur’d song!

P Presumptuous P1v 106

Presumptuous notes! whene’er my voice I raise,

If nought the Muse will dictate but her praise;

Vain is the song, too delicate her ear,

And these the very sounds she will not hear.

To the Prince of Orange,
On his Marriage.

Written at the time of the Oxford Verses.

To foreign notes while others tune the lyre,

Me let a free-born English Muse inspire:

Unskill’d in all the graces of her art,

She boasts of nothing but an honest heart;

To Oxford’s Sons resigns the verdant bays,

And neither asks, nor yet despises praise.

Patrons of Freedom, and their Country’s peace,

Inur’d to dangers, and despising ease—

Such were th’ illustrious Heroes of thy Race!

Such was Nassau! and we with Pleasure see

Our guardian Genius rise again in Thee.

Thee P2r 107

Thee Britain hails, and with a gen’rous Pride

Beholds Thy virtues to Her Throne ally’d.

Auspicious Match!—may Heav’n indulgent shed

Its choicest blessings round the genial bed!

Hail wedded Love! perpetual source of peace;

The Calm, where restless Passion sinks to Ease.

When hearts united thus each other claim,

How sweet the friendship! and how soft the flame!

Wealth, Honour, Empire far behind are thrown,

And all the World’s well lost for Thee alone.

Hence those endearing Interests of life,

The Father, Son, the Brother, and the Wife:

Here Love extended runs thro’ diff’rent names,

The fruitful fountain of ten thousand streams.

Thrice happy Princess! bright with ev’ry grace,

Blest shalt Thou be, and blest in all thy Race:

For, like the royal Stock from whence you came,

A chosen Offspring shall extend your fame;

And nations, yet unborn, shall bless your name.

P2 Here P2v 108

Here then, young Hero! fix thine eyes, and see,

Æneas-like, thy glorious Progeny — — — —

See future Nassau’s in bright order rise,

Fearless as William, and as Maurice wise.

And as their Forms in gay procession glide,

Thy gen’rous heart shall beat with noble pride;

Pleas’d that such prospects on thy Virtues wait,

Which from this glorious Æra take their date;

Pleas’d that thy Race succeeding times shall bless,

And give to warring nations Laws, and Peace.

Verses
to the
Memory of Miss Clayton.

If ought can merit thy regard below,

If when this life, its hopes and fears are o’er,

The soul retains its passions, or can know

What storms or tempests reach our distant shore;

View P3r 109

View this fond tribute with thy wonted love,

And whilst the Muse attempts the solemn strain,

Leave unenjoy’d awhile the realms above,

And to my Fancy once descend again.

Fancy, alas! to Memory ally’d,

Thou cool disturber of our calmest days!

How dost thou oft our rising transports chide!

And steal between us and our wish’d-for peace.

Still, but for Thee, regardless might I stray,

Where gentle Charwell rolls her silent tide;

And wear at ease my span of life away,

As I was wont, when Thou wert by my side.

But now no more the limpid streams delight,

No more at ease unheeding do I stray;

Pleasure and Thou are vanish’d from my sight,

And life, a span! too slowly hastes away.

Yet if thy friendship lives beyond the dust,

Where all things else in peace and silence lie,

I’ll seek Thee there, among the Good and Just,

’Mong those who living wisely—learnt to die.

And P3v 110

And if some friend, when I’m no more, should
strive

To future times my mem’ry to extend,

Let this inscription on my tomb survive,

“Here rest the ashes of a faithful friend.”

A little while, and lo! I lay me down,

To land in silence on that peaceful shore,

Where never billows beat, or tyrants frown,

Where we shall meet again, to part no more.

Epitaph

On Brigadier General Hill.

Of manners gentle, yet a friend to truth,

With age not peevish, nor yet vain in youth:

Brave, yet humane, and blameless tho’ severe;

His speech was open, and his heart sincere:

In courts unbrib’d, not factious tho’ retir’d;

Most lov’d the Soldier, more the Man admir’d.

A Queen P4r III

A Queen his Mistress, Queen Anne. and his Friend, Mankind;

His Fortunes!—to yon little spot Englefield Green. confin’d.

Such once was Hill—and various tho’ his lot,

The same Companion, favour’d, or forgot.

Epitaph

On a Young Nobleman
Kill’d in an Engagement at Sea.

Youth, beauty, strength, the trophy, and
the bust,

Not these his honours to the Tomb we trust;

But modest manners, innocent of art,

The open nature, and the moral heart.

Such love of truth as ancient Britains bore,

Such fortitude, as never Roman more:

And call’d betimes, his task of glory done,

To mix with nature’s social as his own.

On P4v 112

On the Right Honourable
Lady Betty Bertie’s Birth-Day.
By * * * * * * * * * * *

Inserted at the Request of Norris Bertie, Esq;

The day that gave Eliza breath,

May give ten thousand swains their death.

Why then, fond youth! so wond’rous gay,

Is this a fit rejoycing day?

As well might Priam’s subjects load

The altars of their guardian God:

As well express untimely Joy,

At the great birth-day of the Boy

Whom fate ordain’d to fire their Troy.

Rhymes, Q1r

Rhymes
to the
Hon. Miss Lovelace;
Now
Lady Henry Beauclerk.

Q Q1v 114

On her attending
Miss Charlot Clayton
In the Small-pox.

O Thou! to whom the Muse is justly dear,

In Fancy elegant, in Judgement clear,

In whom the Virtues with the Graces blend

The faultless Female, and the faithful Friend;

Awhile suspend the Taste improv’d by Art,

And take the Lay spontaneous from the Heart.

Fantastic Females! ye who paint, and prate

Of self, or somewhat, or of God knows what!

Who mimic every thing but what ye should,

And even Virtue, to be reckon’d good;

Alas! no varnish can that want supply,

No specious talk conceal the acted lye.

While you on trifles waste the tedious day,

And dress, or dream your useless hours away;

Or Q2r 115

Or worse, indulge the very crime you blame,

Plot the dark scandal, or disperse the shame:

She on her Friend attends with pious care,

Sooths all her griefs, and softens ev’ry fear;

That higher sense indulging, void of art,

The virtuous feeling of a gen’rous heart;

And finds self-love attain its noblest end,

When it transfers from Self to serve a Friend.

How few for Friendship Nature has design’d!

Th’ unmelting temper, and th’ unmeaning mind,

The crafty, selfish, dark perfidious, see!

O sacred Friendship! all unworthy Thee.

Where then shall she, whose native manners start

Beyond the narrow bounds of low-bred art,

Whose soul is open, as her purpose clear,

Foe to evasion, as of heart sincere;

Not too familiar, nor yet too precise,

With humour witty, with politeness wise;

Where find a Friend to bear the equal part?

Say, Charlot, where? if not within thy heart.

Q2 Yet Q2v 116

Yet Thou, whose worth might sweeter sounds
inspire,

Indulge these efforts of a youthful lyre:

No flatt’ring purpose has the Muse in view,

Tho’ prompt to praise, wherever Praise is due;

Averse to flatter, cautious to commend,

Hardly she sooths the frailities of a Friend.

But sick of the insipid senseless train,

For Thee she feels the animated strain:

O be she sacred to the wise and good!

Nor prostitute her praises to the croud;

With whom less pleas’d than pain’d, her lyre
unstrung,

Upon a neighb’ring willow useless hung;

Till gentle deeds, and corresponding Love

Impell’d the sympathetic strings to move

To Nature’s harmony; while artless lays,

To her and Lovelace tun’d, grow music in their
praise.

Birth- Q3r 117

Birth-day
To the same, on Richmond-Green,
Soon after her being
Maid of Honour to Queen Caroline.

Bring, bring the lyre, to usher in the morn;

Delia, the gentlest Maid, to day was born:

And tho’ she twenty summer suns has seen,

Tho’ now among the nymphs of Britain’s Queen,

Is still the gentlest Maid upon the green.

Sure guardian Sylphs around her paths attend!

Without a foe, and worthy ev’ry Friend.

In one bright calm may each succeeding year

Roll guiltless on, unruffled by a care!

Till future Maids of Honour have approv’d

The grove she haunted, and the stream she lov’d;

And each bright Sister, emulous, proclaim,

That Innocence and Pleasure are the same.

The Q3v 118

The Fall.

Ye Maids of Honour, mind your ways,

Nor wholesome counsel slight;

For oh! ’tis hard, in these our days,

To hold one’s Dish upright.

By fate the strongest of us all,

And eke the steadiest too,

Are doom’d, or soon or late, to fall,

Nor are examples few.

The first of all the falling sex

Was Eve, our parent frail!—

Ah, Satan! Satan! thy sly tricks

Her daughters still bewail.

The next in fame, that made a trip

(O hear each Maid and Wife!)

Was Delia—and the only slip

She ever made in life.

But Q4r 119

But fate foresaw the whole affair,

And plac’d before her eyes

A ball, three footmen, and a chair,

And eke a Beau likewise.

In such a case, what mortal Maid

In circumspection deals?

Or when a ball affects the head,

What nymph can mind her heels?

For, eager to be gone, ’tis said,

That morn she miss’d her pray’rs;

But vengeance swift o’ertook the Maid,

Alas! she fell down stairs.

Hence, ladies fair, with caution tread,

Be warn’d by Delia’s slip;

And keep this maxim in your head—

To “look, before you leap”.

For she a Mourner is become,

Does penance for her sin;

And, ’stead of dancing, stays at home,

To weep a broken Shin.

On Q4v 120

On her Bed-Chamber’s Chimney
Being blown down at St. James’s

“Go, Betty, (gentle Delia said)

And warm my spotless virgin bed:

I’m Frost, I’m Ice, all cold as stone!

But how can One be warm alone?

Well, be it so—‘What can’t be cur’d’,

The Proverb says,” “‘must be endur’d.’

Stay—go, I mean—but on my chair

Besure lay Farquhar’s Constant Pair.

My Psalms and Hymns, here, take away,

Methinks I’ve no great mind to pray:

Soft Vigils rather let me keep;

Damon, alas! has murderd sleep.”

She said, when lo! a storm arose,

Which first her Fav’rites discompose:

Her China next disorder’d shakes,

And see! the Chimney, how it quakes!

The R1r 121

The Palace totters to its fall,

And down comes China, Chimney, all!

What shall she do? or whither run?

Behold in dust her Bed of down!

Yet, Delia, let it ne’er be said,

You know not where to lay your head.

What! shrinking back, now danger’s near!

A Soldier’s Daughter too, and fear!

Where, where’s that Fortitude you boast?

The Post of Danger’s Virtue’s Post:

And thunder, lighten, rain, or shine,

The Bed of Honour still is Thine.

Moral.

Adown the pretty purling stream

The little Loves may loll and dream;

And please, and prune themselves with care,

And fancy Virtue lodges there.

The soft Affections thus, and strong,

Adown life’s current glide along;

And all-appeas’d and uncontroul’d,

Awhile their equal measure hold.

R Till R1v 122

Till sailing fatrther on the deep,

Or mounting Virtue’s lofty steep,

The pretty system sinks away,

The little loves, and smiles decay.

Unnumber’d waves and storms we find

To raise—not to depress the mind,

The conscious mind, which dares endure,

And, fixt on Virtue, stands secure:

Nor shrinks, dismay’d, when danger’s nigh,

Nor drops her aims beneath the sky.

The Story of
Jacob and Rachel attempted.

To the same.

Thou! to whom nature variously imparts,

The gift of conq’ring, and of keeping hearts,

Smile on the lay—nor deem the Tale too long,

Which, but for Thee, had yet remain’d unsung.

So may some chosen Youth hereafter view

All Rachel’s Graces bloom in Thee anew,

And love, like Jacob, tenderly and true.

Far R2r 123

Far in the East, as Sacred Writ records,

Dwelt Laban, rich in sundry flocks and herds;

Near Haran’s famous Well was his abode,

There smoak’d his altars to his Houshold-God.

His dwellings large, and fertile was his land,

And num’rous servants waited his command;

The fruitful lawn, the hill, the levell’d down,

Far as the eye could stretch, were all his own:

Throughout the East extended Laban’s fame,

And where he journey’d, there he left a name.

Two only Daughters to his age remain’d,

And Leah one, and one was Rachel named.

Time had from Leah rifled ev’ry grace—

But blooming beauty dwelt on Rachel’s face.

Well-favour’d, graceful, in the bloom of life,

She led the flocks, or tript it to the fife;

When summer suns burnt fiercely o’er their heads,

She drove the wantons frisking to the shades;

Or when the merry pipe rejoic’d the vale,

Led up the dance, or told the jocund tale;

R2 Chearful R2v 124

Chearful and blythe she pass’d the day along,

And ev’ry valley echo’d with her song.

She was each shepherd’s theme, each swain’s delight,

Their talk by day, their vision in the night;

Whene’er they feasted on their homely cheer,

No mirth was heard, if Rachel was not there:

’Mongst all their rural sports She still was seen,

And foremost at the feast, as on the green.

Her Fame and Charms soon reach’d young
Jacob’s ear,

Rebekah’s best belov’d, and Isaac’s Heir:

But ere his friends and family he leaves,

His Father’s Blessing on his head he craves.

To Padan-aram now his course he steers,

His hopes succeeded by a thousand fears;

The mingled passions take up all his soul,

And vast events within his bosom roll.

As on he journey’d far into the East,

Fatigued himself, his camels wanting rest,

Not R3r 125

Not far away, with pleasure he beheld

A spacious well, amidst a fruitful field;

Where with their flocks the sun-burnt shepherds
came,

Panting and faint, to quaff the limpid stream.

Of these he ask’d their country and their name:

“From Haran (they reply’d) thy servants came.”

And know ye Laban? lives he, can ye tell?

“He lives, my Lord; thy servants know him well:

His num’rous flocks in yonder valley stray,

And with them, lo! his daughter comes this way.”

When Jacob saw the Maid, his beating breast

The pow’r of Love and radiant eyes confest

Quick thro’ his veins the gen’rous pleasure flow’d,

His bosom with unusual fervours glow’d;

Around his heart the soft’ning passions crept,

He gaz’d, he sigh’d, he wonder’d, and he wept;

Then seiz’d her hand, and kiss’d her rosy cheek,

And trembling from his lips the accents break.

When R3v 126

When Rachel heard his family and name,

Their common stock, the tribe from whence she
came;

With decent haste, exulting o’er the plain,

She, with the tidings, to her Father ran.

Meanwhile her harmless flock neglected stray,

Or round the Well in expectation lay:

These Jacob water’d, could he well do less?

He lov’d the sheep, but more the Shepherdess.

When Laban heard the tidings, forth he went

To meet, and welcome Jacob to his tent.

“My joy (cry’d Laban) let my actions speak;

A kind embrace, and friendly welcome take,

—This for Rebekah—this for Isaac’s sake.”

Now mirth and feasting thro’ the house were found,

The damsels tript it to the tabret’s sound,

And the brisk bowl to Jacob’s health went round.

Each in the gen’ral joy asserts his share,

And none seem’d pensive, but the Patriarch’s Heir.

He R4r 127

He oft on Rachel gazes, oft approves,

And much he muses, for as much he loves:

All night her pleasing image sooth’d his mind;

He found her fair, and hop’d to prove her kind.

Soon as the rosy morn unveil’d the light,

And with her splendor chas’d the gloom of night;

Jacob arose, and blest the new-born day,

Then sought the flock, where Rachel led the way.

And now he guides ’em to the flow’ry hill,

Or drives ’em skipping to the distant rill:

At noon secures ’em from scorching heat;

With Rachel near him, Jacob’s toil is sweet.

If on the reed his skilful fingers move,

He pours the song to harmony and Love.

Oft on the trees imprints her much-lov’d name,

Or sighs his passion to the murm’ring stream;

To deck her hair the flow’ry wreath prepares,

The flow’ry wreath for Jacob’s sake she wears:

Jacob! whom now she views with partial eye,

Nor pass’d his slightest deeds unnotic’d by.

Nor R4v 128

Nor were their thoughts to Love alone confin’d,

To mutual vows instructive talk they join’d.

As how the stars in beauteous order stood,

And each the splendid witness of a God!—

Their signs and seasons they observe with care,

And mark their influence on the earth and air:

Which threats their flocks, or which destroys their
vines,

And which with good, or baleful aspect shines.

Thus pass’d their time. When Laban now beheld

His flocks increase, his vines more clusters yield;

Pleas’d with his growing wealth, he strait prepares

To offer some reward for Jacob’s cares.

Jacob, whose heart nor gold nor gems could move,

Look’d with disdain on all—but Rachel’s Love;

And thus reply’d.

“If gracious Laban means

Or to reward my past, or future pains;

Bless, with a bounteous hand, bless all my life,

And give me lovely Rachel for a Wife.

“I ask S1r 129

I ask no dow’r my fortunes to improve,

Rich in possession of my Rachel’s Love.

Let sordid swains, whom thirst of gain invites

To woo the Fair-One to the nuptial rites,

Bargain for Love, and sell their vows for gold;

But let not Rachel, like her sheep, be sold.

Rachel! whose beauty softens ev’ry breast,

Whose worth outweighs the treasures of the East!

Full sev’n long years I’ll serve thee for the Maid;

The toil looks pleasing, when so well repaid.”

Laban consents, and Jacob joys to find

The Sire as courteous as the Daughter kind,

Nor e’er suspects the depths of Laban’s mind.

His upright heart, as yet, no guile could see;

He thought men honest, as they seem’d to be.

But when the long-expected day appears,

That Rachel should reward her Jacob’s cares,

When with united hearts they join to bless

The first fair dawnings of their mutual peace;

Laban prepares a banquet, and invites

The neighb’ring swains to grace the nuptial rites.

S In S1v 130

In num’rous crouds they came from distant lands,

To hail the Bride, with presents in their hands;

Rich sparkling wines, or firstlings of the flock,

Or swelling clusters from the pendent rock.

A flowing mantle lovely Rachel wore,

Emboss’d with gems, with gold embroider’d o’er;

In wanton ringlets wav’d her aubourn hair,

Succinct her robe, her buskin’d legs half bare.

She gave the health, She welcom’d ev’ry guest,

And seem’d to all the Mistress of the Feast

But when the sun withdrew his kindling beams,

And the last ray danc’d faintly on the streams;

The guileful Laban, whose long-frozen breast

No more the youthful pow’r of Love confest,

Observ’d how Leah often look’d askance,

And cast on Rachel many an envious glance,

Himself the willing wayward damsel led

To Rachel’s Place, and seiz’d the bridal bed.

But when the morn appear’d, and by his side

Jacob beheld his unexpected Bride;

Enrag’d, S2r 131

Enrag’d, he smote his breast, his clothes he rent,

And sorrowing sought the faithless Laban’s tent,

And thus upbraids

“What hast thou done? Why led

The tasteless Leah to my nuptial bed?

Did I serve thee for Her? ungentle fair!—

And dost thou thus reward my honest care?

Little wast Thou, thou know’st it, ere I came;

How God has blest thee since, let Me proclaim.

What time I’ve serv’d thee, have I done thee
wrong?

Have or thy Ews or Goats once cast their Young?

That which was torn of beasts I brought thee not,

I bare the loss, nor hast thou suffer’d aught.

Thus, thus I was; for Thee my sleep I lost,

Endur’d the summer’s sun, and winter’s frost

Unrighteous Man! is this then my return?

I serv’d for Rachel—but for Leah mourn.”

Laban reply’d,

“What tho’, young man, I led

My first-born Leah to thy arms, and bed;

Know, ’tis our country’s custom: ’twere a crime

To give the younger first—yet both are thine,

S2 If S2v 132

If, with thy boasted fondness, thou canst bear

Sev’n added years of servitude and care.”

Ill-fated Jacob! who must now embrace

These hard conditions of his happiness,

Or lose his lovely Maid, his much-lov’d Fair!

Source of his woes, and partnerof his care—

Twice sev’n long years! ’twas hard for Love to bear.

Yet all his trials well did he sustain,

And Rachel shar’d, or soften’d ev’ry pain,

Till Heav’n at length confirm’d Her all his own;

When, to their mutual joy, She bare a son,

And thence enjoy’d his Love unrival’d, and alone.

Written on some Ivory Leaves.

Ye spotless Leaves! by all confest

Fair emblems of your Mistress’ breast

Thrice happy He of human race,

Whose Name in this fair Book has place!

O happier still, whoe’er thou art,

Whose Name’s engraven on her Heart!

The S3r 133

The Author’s Silence excus’d.

Whilst You fair MashamSister of Th. Wirmington Esq., first Wife of Simon, 2d Lord Masham. entertain

With sense and sparkling wit;

A stranger to the flowing vein,

I all attention fit.

Let other Maids, of happier lungs,

The painful silence break;

I envy not their gift of tongues,

If You, or Masham speak.

Epistle, from Fern-Hill.

To the same.

Charlot, who my controller is chief,

And dearly loves a little mischief,

Whene’er I talk of packing up,

To all my measures puts a stop:

And tho’ I plunge from bad to worse,

Grown duller than her own dull horse;

Yet S3v 134

Yet out of Complaisance exceeding,

Or pure Perverseness, call’d Good-breeding,

Will never let me have my way

In any thing I do, or say.

At table, if I ask for Veal,

In complaisance, she gives me Quail.

I like your Beer; ’tis brisk, and fine—

“O no; John, give Miss—some Wine.”

And tho’ from two to four you stuff,

She never thinks you’re sick enough:

In vain your Hunger’s cur’d, and Thirst;

If you’d oblige her, you must burst

Whether in pity, or in ire,

Sometimes I’m seated next the fire;

So very close, I pant for breath,

In pure Good-manners scorch’d to death.

Content I feel her kindness kill,

I only beg to make my Will;

But still in all I do, or say,

This nusance Breeding’s in the way;

O’er S4r 135

O’er which to step I’m much too lazy,

And too obliging to be easy.

Oft do I cry, I’m almost undone

To see our Friends in Brooke-street, London.

As seriously the Nymph invites

Her slave to stay till moon-shine nights.

Lo! from her lips what Language breaks!

What sweet perswasion, when she speaks!

Her Words sof soft! her Sense so strong!

I only wish—to slit her Tongue.

But this, you’ll say’s to make a clutter,

Forsooth! about one’s bread and butter.

Why, be it so; yet I’ll aver,

That I’m as great a plague to Her;

For well-bred folks are ne’er so civil,

As when they wish you at the D—l.

So, Charlot, for our mutual ease,

Let’s e’en shake hands, and part in peace;

To keep me here, is but to teaze ye,

To let me go, would be to ease ye.

As S4v 136

As when (to speak in phrase more humble)

The Gen’ral’s guts begin to grumble,

Whate’er the cause that inward stirs,

Or pork, or pease, or wind, or worse;

He wisely thinks the more ’tis pent,

The more ’twill struggle for a vent:

So only begs you’ll hold your nose,

And gently lifting up his clothes,

Away th’imprison’d vapour flies,

And mounts a zephyr to the skies.

So I (with rev’rence be it spoken)

Of such a Guest am no bad token;

In Charlot’s chamber ever rumbling,

Her Pamphlets, and her Papers tumbling,

Displacing all the things she places,

And, as is usual in such cases,

Making her cut most sad wry faces.

Yet, spite of all this rebel rout,

She’s too well bred to let me out,

For T1r 137

For fear you squeamish Nymphs at Court

(Virgins of not the best report)

Should on the tale malicious dwell,

When me you see, or of me tell.

O Charlot! when alone we sit,

Laughing at all our own (no) wit,

You wisely with your Cat at play,

I reading Swift, and spilling tea;

How would it please my ravish’d ear,

To hear you, from your easy chair,

With look serene, and brow uncurl’d,

Cry out, A— for all the world!

But You, a slave to too much breeding,

And I, a fool, with too much reading,

Follow the hive, as bees their drone,

Without one purpose of our own:

Till tir’d with blund’ring and mistaking,

We die sad fools of others making.

Stand it recorded on yon post,

That both are fools then, to our cost!

The question’s only, which is most?

T I T1v 138

I, that I never yet have shewn

One steady purpose of my own;

Or You, with both your blue eyes waking,

Run blund’ring on, by Choice mistaking?—

Alas! we both might sleep contented,

Our errors purg’d, our faults repented;

Could you, unmov’d, a squeamish look meet,

Or I forget our Friend in Brooke-Street.

Birth-day.

Shall this Day unheeded fly,

And like vulgar days pass by?

Dull as — tho’ I be,

Shall it pass unsung by Me?

No, when I this Day forget,

May I share that Poet’s fate!

Singing what is daily said,

Rhyming what is never read.

Now for Blessings, such as ease,

Health and joy, long life and peace.

Pray T2r 139

Pray we next—for Poets may

Sure, as well as Prose-Folks, pray—

And as this Day rolls around,

May you still be perfect found:

Still, in Virtue’s noble race,

Pressing for the foremost place;

Scorning all that’s low, or lewd,

Daring to be great and good:

Till your race of life is done,

And the glorious meed your own;

Such as Angels now receive,

Such as Heav’n alone can give.

In Memory of the Right Hon.
Nevil Lord Lovelace.

In the calm hour, when pleasure most prevails,

And smooth prosperity has swell’d your sails,

The sportive Muse her humble lyre has strung,

To join the triumph with some idle song:

T2 And T2v 140

And shall she now, when nature smiles no more,

When tempests rise, and surges lash the shore,

Sit doubtful, and the serious lay refuse?

Shall Lovelace sigh, nor sympathize the Muse?

In life’s mixt scene, where various parts agree

To form one tedious Tragi-Comedy,

How few, alas! in either part can shine?

But both to grace, what forces must combine!

In some low scene is Silia deem’d a wit?

With patience’ meekest ear attentive sit.

In mimic state, and proud fantastic pow’r,

Is Fulvia crown’d the Queen of half an hour?

The Queen of half an island if she please;

The wise have no debates with such as these.

But when the rising scenes with anguish swell,

’Tis Yours the higher, harder part to tell,

And dignify distress by suff’ring well.

Whether the Stoic’s, or the Christian’s part,

Found in the head, or working at the heart;

Here all the kind affections, touch’d, comply;

There rous’d again to study’d apathy.

Come, T3r 141

Come, false Philosophy! as proud as vain,

Talk well of virtue, talk it o’er again;

Deep in the heart true Fortitude’s conceal’d,

And needs no eloquence to be reveal’d.

Yet speak! O tell me! whence this calm of mind?

The will obedient, and the wish resigned;

The steady temper, and the look serene,

And all a Sister’s woe in silence seen?

That I may learn, when by misfortune prest,

To yeild with meekness, or with strength resist

Brave Youth! with ev’ry virtue crown’d, farewel!

How truly lov’d, young Walpole’ Hon. Horace Walpole, Esq; s Muse can tell.

He to the Tomb has led the weeping Nine,

And hung the wreath of friendship o’er the shrine.

Not sweeter notes, whom Pope consigns to fame,

“Attend the shade of gentle Buckingham.”

Here the pale Loves, and sick’ning Graces mourn,

And there the Sister weeping o’er the Urn:

Like some fair pillar nodding o’er it’s base,

The last remaining ruin of her race;

Left T3v 142

Left but to make their milder virtues known,

And fill the radiant circle with her own.

Useless the marble, and the mournful crest,

No tomb so lovely as a sister’s breast;

There shall thy mem’ry live, by time improv’d,

And she for virtues, once thy own, be lov’d:

Not such as make of Kings and Queens a Friend,

But such as grac’d thy life, and bless’d thy end;

Truth unaffected, Manners void of art,

Plain Sense, and strong Benevolence of heart.

Oft as she eyes yon bright etherial plain,

And burns to follow Thee, and mix again;

Some tender friendships, some endearing ties,

Cling round her heart, and hold her from the skies.

A little while, and these shall all decay,

And the free soul emerge to endless day:

Where, having long sustain’d the faithful part,

The strong attraction seizing all her heart,

Her gentler orb shall round it’s center move,

Re-kindled into Harmony and Love.

T4r 143

Life.

(Occasion’d by some lines upon Death.)

Say, Delia, has not Death a pain

Beyond what mortals fear, or feign?

Beyond th’ oppressor’s scourge, or scorn?

Beyond what suff’ring worth may mourn?

Do not the wise, the learn’d, the great,

At his approach, appall’d, retreat?

Do not the brave with horror start,

And, shock’d, betray th’ unconquer’d heart?

To Death for ease we fly in vain,

And pleasure lose for certain pain.

Nor is this all. The conscious mind

Connects an awful scene behind:

Where ev’ry crime shall be expos’d,

And ev’ry secret guilt disclos’d;

Where hearts unus’d to melt, shall bleed,

And sad remorse, with pangs succeed.

Then T4v 144

Then cease awhile the doubtful strife,

And, reconcil’d, look back on life.

How full of smiles is it begun!

With what delight does youth glide on!

What pleasures sparkle in our eyes,

When first the infant passions rise!

If Love invades the sprightly veins,

With all its cares, and pleasing pains;

Tho’ absence heighten the distress,

Or jealous fears disturb our peace;

Tho’ the soft flame, with which we burn,

Be pay’d with pride, neglect, or scorn;

Slight he the nymph, or she the swain,

Yet there’s a pleasure in the pain.

In Friendship what relief we find!

What ease, from int’rests thus combin’d;

By mutual ties of honour bound,

How kind, how faithful, Friends are found!

How full each word! how fair each deed!

(Save just in case of real need)

Without U1r 145

Without reserve their joys they share,

And by dividing lessen care.

What tho’ dull moralists of old,

Strange tales of broken faith have told;

What tho’ there were, for private ends,

Those who debas’d the name of friends;

Yet these were things done long ago,

The world is strangely mended now!

And in this upright age we see,

Friends are—what they appear to be.

Next young Ambition smiling brings

Alternate joy to Slaves and Kings.

The Monarch, lo! in transports hurl’d,

Surveys in thought a conquer’d world.

The Peasant o’er his clod espies

Preferments, riches, honours rise;

Till, (what sometimes is vastly odd)

The vision flies, and leaves the clod:

Yet Expectation gilds his joys;

Fruition only cures, and cloys.

U Gay, U1v 146

Gay, blooming Expectation strays

To charming scenes, thro’ charming ways;

With wondrous art it can foresee

What never was, nor e’er can be:

Yet who would wish to spy the cheat?

Or who’d not hug the dear deceit?

Since life’s prime bliss, it is believ’d,

Consists in being—well-deceiv’d.

Nor must we laugh at, nor may blame

The man who thirsts, or bleeds for Fame.

Renown, tho’ Late, at length succeeds,

And tho’ it comes not till his fall,

’Tis better late—than not at all.

Observe the Man of dress, and lace:

How soft his air! how sweet his face!

The youth has lov’d, and learnt to dance:

And now he travels into France,

Fresh manners to import, and mark

The sword-knot of the Grand Monarque.

Then U2r 147

Then, fine and finish’d, homeward roves,

Each taste corrects, refines, improves;

Admires awhile, and is admir’d;

And tiring others, till he’s tir’d,

Walks off, a little sick of life,

And takes, by way of cure, a Wife:

Enquires—whose house is to be let,

(His own being quitted for a debt)

Then, as his finances require,

To frugal Yorkshire does retire,

And ends a plain, contented ’Squire.

Nor Youth alone has joy in view,

Age has its satisfactions too.

Who envies not the miser’s store?

Who seeming rich, and really poor,

Yet that one passion, lust of gain,

Supports him under ev’ry pain:

Amidst a thousand ills he’ll thrive,

And think it worth his while to live.

The venerable Sage, who deals

In long, insipid, ancient tales,

U2 Who U2v 148

Who dwells on feats of former times,

And loudly taxes modern crimes;

Whose tedious lore at morn’s begun,

And ends but with the setting sun;

At ninety odd, this happy man

Repines, that life is but a span!

That as the sparks fly upwards all,

So mortal man is doom’d to fall!

That flesh is grass; and like the flow’r,

Springs, blooms, and dies within an hour!—

More truths, perhaps, he might unfold;

But ah! he dies; his tale is told.

Nor are these all the joys of age:

Love may exert its feebler rage

Thro’ each re-animated vein,

Enliv’ning all the heart again:

Past scenes restoring to its view,

And warmth, as well as youth renew.

Nor this prepost’rous call, or strange;

Winter itself, grown old, will change,

And U3r 149

And put Spring’s youthful liv’ry on,

Pervaded by the gen’rous sun.

Delia, if this is Life, and these

Can pass it off with so much ease;

Or all-enamour’d with the scene,

Would act it o’er and o’er again:

If these can taste the present hour,

What joys has Wisdom in her pow’r!

Who leads, with lasting pleasure blest,

Fair Virtue, ever-chearful guest!

The constant inmates of your breast

With Delia, Love’s a gentle flame,

Whose source is honour and esteem.

Her Friendship still is more refin’d,

A gen’rous sympathy of mind.

Ambitious—only to excell,

And be supreme in doing well.

And hence, as a reward, may claim

Our just returns of Praise, and Fame.

Live U3v 150

Live then, and condescend to taste,

Tho’ you’re digusted with the feast;

Live for your own, for Virtue’s sake,

And Pleasure with the Wise partake:

And (if the fates so much decree)

A little longer live—for Me.

Written at her:
Apartment in Windsor-Castle.

I.

Whilst You, dear Maid, to soft alarms

Resign the genial hour,

Forsaking all for Henry’s charms,

Your own, and Ours no more:

II.

I lean my philosophic head

On table cold as clay,

And read—good Gods, how I do read!

My very soul away.

My U4r 151

III.

My Lady hears away her rage

In tragedy so deep:

Fringes no more her soul engage—

Ev’n John has leave to sleep.

IV.

Thus all forgetting, or forgot,

While You are from our view,

To knot and read, and read and knot,

Is all we have to do.

Birth-day.

Come, my Muse, prepare the lay,

Once more hail this happy Day.

Bid it shine o’er all the past;

Brightest, since it is the last

For her full meridian ray,

Soon must sicken, and decay:

See! she hastens down the skies,

In another sphere to rise;

In U4v 152

In a world unknown, untry’d,

Sets a Maid, to rise a Bride.

So the sun, with splendid ray,

Having shone his summer’s day,

Gilding all the groves and plains,

Drops at length the golden reins,

And night’s curtain round him spread,

Hides his beams in Thetis’ bed.

From New Lodge Right Hon. Lord Henry Beauclerk’s in Windsor Forest. to Fern-Hill.

In a very rainy Summer Season.

Thee, gentle Charlot on the Hill,

(A scene the Muse remembers still)

We, humble tenants of the vale,

Greeting, congratulate and hail.

In vain retir’d from city noise,

From Mackrel cries, and Watchmen’s voice,

To X1r 153

To where Lord Henry plants the grove,

Sacred to silence and to Love;

If here reserv’d, for crimes unknown,

(Dreadful reverse!) to hang, or drown.

See, how the rushing torrents pour!

A deluge now in ev’ry show’r!

The mountain tops apace decay,

The little hillocks melt away:

No more in ponds the gosling talks,

But sails secure on gravel walks.

The very fish have left the floods,

And glide, or graze among the woods; Several fish were taken gliding among the forest walks.

Unknowing where to shape their way,

Or which is earth, or which is sea.

Ev’n little Joe, amphibious creature!

Lives solely now beneath the water.

Yet ere the springs of life decay,

Ere quite dissolv’d, or wash’d away,

X If, X1v 154

If, curious of our weal or woe,

You ask, how fares the vale below;

Behold, the Muse her flight prepares,

And in her mouth the olive bears,

Emblem of peace! Yet if she brings

No friendly token on her wings;

If to the vale she echoes round,

That Charlot’s turkies too are drown’d;

And all her ducks, and all her drakes,

Are hurry’d down the dreadful lakes;

In vain we hail the Hill or Thee,

In vain we put our barks to sea.

But see! the deluge drives apace,

And seems to threaten all the race.

Yet happy we of human kind,

Who have one comfort still behind—

Let but my Lady safe remain!

She’ll people all the earth again.

Ode X2r 155

Ode
To the Right Hon. Lady Henry Beauclerk.

I.

The summit reach’d of earthly joys,

Your nurs’ry full of Girls and Boys,

Your Lord in peace return’d;

Your rents improv’d, your lands increas’d,

The good old Right Hon. Lady Wentworth. Baroness
deceas’d,

And with due honours mourn’d;

II.

What more remains, but safe ashore,

Grateful indulge the present hour,

And, while you feel, impart;

Nor let a feebler pulse control

One gen’rous purpose of your soul,

One virtue of your heart.

X2 The X2v 156

III.

The ruling passion, bold and strong,

May struggle in the bosom long,

Yet wants its time to shoot;

But when kind Heav’n the soil supplies

With bolder Suns, and brighter skies,

It yields its gen’rous fruit.

IV.

Whether we view your morning scene,

A favour’d Maid near Britain’s Queen,

(The rest let Envy tell)

Or now arriv’d at noon of life,

A frugal Mother, and a Wife,

Thus far, at least, was well.

V.

And thus far too your praise I’ve sung,

And still the burden of my song

Was—“Ne’er be Fortune’s Creature!”

For, tho’ she open all her store,

And tho’ she give you ten times more,

“To be yourself is greater.”

The X3r 157

VI.

The songs I sung you kindly took,

And bid me put ’em in a book,

Because I scorn’d to flatter;

But now more great, that is, more rich,

God knows what Demons may bewitch,

And spoil your honest Nature.

VII.

Should you grow artful, foolish, nice,

Or sink to sneaking avarice,

Much good may Riches do ye!

But then, how simple I shall look?—

Do, tear your Songs, and burn your Book,

And say—I never knew ye.

X3v X4r 159

Abstract of an
Order of Convocation
in Relation to
Melissa’s taking off Medals, &c. in Paper.

Madam,

After returning You Thanks for the
curious specimens You’ve been pleas’d
to send me of your Art, I am order’d to inform
you—That yesterday a Convocation was
held at O—d,consisting of all the Doctors,
both the Proctors, all Heads and Governors of
Colleges and Halls, together with a numerous
appearance of Masters; when this venerable
and learned Body, in consideration of your extraordinary
Merits, and at the instance of their
Chancellor, were pleas’d to confer the following
singular Favour upon You, in the following
manner.

The House being regularly seated, the Vice-
Chancellor (as usual upon such occasions) rose
up, and delivered to the senior Proctor a Letter
from the Chancellor, which the said Proctor read X4v 160
read very audibly; beginning in the usual
Form, with “Mr. V. Chancr and Gent.
I have been mov’d on the behalf of the
amiable and eminent Melissa,”

And ending—“To this laudable request I
give my consent; and am,
Mr. V. Chancr and Gent. &c.”

The heads of which Letter were as follow.

“That leave be given to the said Melissa, already
perfect mistress of the several branches
of Natural Philosophy, and now deep in the
study of Mechanics, particularly that of copying
Medals by a new plastic art, in Basso Relievo,
on Paper—to pursue her said studies in
the public Library of this University; and
that the reverend and learned the Keeper of the
Archives, Medals, &c. be order’d to attend her
during her stay here, and supply her with all
the materials she shall have occasion for. And
moreover, that the said Melissa may have the
farther Favour of an honorary degree conferr’d
upon her, as a public testimony of the
regard of this University to real Merit.”

After some debates upon the subject matter of
the Letter, as well as the nature of the request, in regard Y1r 161
regard to the Novelty of it, and the extreme presumption
of suffering so beautiful a Person to pervade
the recesses of the Learned—

Order’d,

That Leave be given to the said Senior Proctor
(who, ’tis said, was first mov’d to petition the
Chancellor) to enlarge upon the Merits of the
Case, and more fully to explain the Nature and
Tendency of so extraordinary a Request, together
with the Benefits which might accrue to the Society
in general; which, after three laudable
Hems, in order to remove all obstructions, he
proceeded to do, as follows:

“That, as it has seem’d good to the Chancellor
to move us on the behalf of Melissa, who is descended
in a direct Line from a Lady right
cunning in the Art of making pretty Faces, and
who has given undoubted specimens of her uncommon
Genius in that, as well as other liberal
Sciences; ’tis hop’d that this University, so remarkable
for distinguishing Merit, will be particularly
unanimous in their vote, that Leave be
given to the said Melissa to pursue her studies, in
a regular manner, in this ancient and honourable
University.
That among variety of other Medals, belonging
to it’s Archives, are those which were struck
upon the Duke of Marlborough’s battles; and Y ’tis Y1v 162
’tis pray’d that this fair Student may have leave
to take all his Towns again in Paper; and
put his famous Battle of Blenheim, which cost
so many Millions, within the compass of a
Crown Piece.
That this is moreover a more safe, and expeditious
way of taking Towns than the present
bloody one now in use; and might therefore
be of infinite service to vast numbers of the
Gentlemen of the Army and Marine.
That by this means the immortal Actions of
that great General will be more effectually perpetuated,
and compris’d within the Cabinets of
the Curious; and since the Brave have from
time immemorial protected the Fair, ’tis but
reasonable that the Fair should, at least, record
the Brave.
That since the Lady is naturally of a cruel
disposition, and seems at present to have no
thoughts of transmitting her own Face to Posterity;
’tis hop’d she may be indulg’d in the
liberty of making free with other People’s.
And lastly, That in Consideration of her
high Birth, and singular Merit, as well as in
regard to the Chancellor’s Letter, she may have
confer’d upon her an honorary degree,
and the Title of Mistress of Arts; with
leave, not only to Vote in Convocation, but also
to have the Last Word.”
Y As Y2r 163

As nothing material was objected to this
Motion, except a sort of Whisper which went
round among the queer Faces; it pass’d without
a Division. Only the Rev. Dr. Sh—pp—n,
who has always the good of the Society at
heart, mov’d that a Clause might be added, viz.

That in consideration of her being a Lady
of a pleasing Aspect, and penetrating Eye, no
Student under the Degree of Doctor, be suffer’d
to approach the place of her Studies; and that
for every such Offence, the Offender shall be
obliged to stand upon his Head for the space of
two hours, within sight of the Lady; or pay
the sum of Forty Shillings for Peeping.

As this was so unusual a Favour, and for which
they had no precedent to proceed upon, it was
afterwards debated in what manner they are to
receive you into the Arms of the University, and
pay their Respects to you at your Entrance;
which ’tis pray’d may be a Public one, and is to
be perform’d in the manner following.

You are to be met at the City Gates by the
whole Body of the University, in their proper
Habiliments, and with their Arms extended.
As soon as you alight from your Coach, the Vice-
Chancellor is to uncover his head, and approach
you in the most respectful manner, to lead you to
his; where you are to be seated on his Right Y2 hand Y2v 164
hand, and are requir’d not to discompose the
gravity of his face, by any unseasonable Simperings
of your own. When you arrive at the
Theatre, the Company are order’d to halt, while
the Vice-Chancellor leads you out of his Coach,
and walks before you, in Procession, towards
the Public Library. The two Senior Proctors
are to be your Supporters, and your Train is to
be born up by any two Gentlemen Commoners,
whose Faces you have no objection to. When
you arrive at the Library, the Keys which unlock
the valuable Treasures of Sir Thomas Bodley
and other Benefactors, are to be deliver’d into
your hands, with the ancient and laudable Ceremony
of a Kiss from all the venerable Body of
Doctors. After this you are to be conducted in
the same manner to your apartment here in St.
Toles, which will be prepar’d for your reception
against the --03-2525th of March next, being Lady-
Day
.


I am, Madam, &c.

N. B. I am to have the honour of supporting
your Fan during the Ceremony.

Advertisement. Y3r 165

Advertisement.

A Very incorrect Copy of the following Letter
to Dr. Pitt, which by some means or other
got abroad in Manuscript, having been lately
printed, with the Author’s name to it, tho’ entirely
without her Knowledge or Consent; she
thinks proper to give it a place in this Collection,
as well in regard to her Self, as at the particular
request of several of her Friends.—
Occasion of it was to quicken the Performance
of the Doctor’s Promises of repairing with a
Wall, a very sorry and shatter’d old Mound of
Pales; the inconveniency of which Nusance had
for some years been submitted to with the Complaisance
of Neighbours. But little Probability appearing
when this stupendous Fabric was to be
built, upon failure of a number of these Promises,
the Author, being going from home for some
time, left this Letter for him behind her; in hopes
of its having, as the Editor of the printed Copy
says it had, it’s desir’d effect But that was a
Mistake. For it growing more and more convenientvenient Y3v 166
for the Doctor to let the Times he fix’d
lapse as usual, he continued his Promises for a
year or two longer; and then, unluckily for his
good Neighbours, his Workmen, ’tis said, thought
proper to make a little too free with their Territory;
which tho’ absolutely without his Approbation,
and entirely against his Consent, some
people have imagin’d not much to the Doctor’s
Honour. The Author therefore could not help
mentioning this Circumstance, not only in defence
of the Doctor’s Character, which she hears has
suffer’d upon this occasion from the Malice of
his Enemies; but also in regard to the Editor of
the printed Copy, whom (in return for the compliments
he is pleas’d to make her) she was willing
to treat with a new Preface to his second
Edition, which she heartily wishes may sell as
well as the first

Letter Y4r 167

Letter

To Dr. Pitt.

Sir,

As the use of Mounds and Fences has in
all ages obtain’d, as well for the security
of Property, as the safety, ornament, and
defence of the Proprietor; I take the liberty to
address You, not as a Mechanic, or Lawyer,
but as a Doctor of Physic, upon the manifest
Infirmity of your Pallisades. You must undoubtedly
have observ’d, in your perambulations
towards the little Edifice at the bottom
of your Garden, that they have for some years
been in a declining cachectic state; that there is
a manifest decay of the Fluids, and that the
Solids have lost their Tone and Elasticity. But
while You yourself were taken up in the contemplation
of the Human Fabric, it could not
be expected that this shatter’d frame should
claim much of Your attention; and therefore
Mrs. Pitt, in Your Absence, has sometimes assay’d
the Medical Art, in support of the tottering
Edifice. Her Practice was chiefly some of the
Woods, with great Quantities of Steel, and otherther Y4v 168
Astringents; which she generally administer’d
with her own hands. But as her Remedies
were sometimes pretty violent, and at
best but topical or palliative, they only shatter’d
the weaker and more contiguous Fibres;
and by plaistering and patching up the unsound
Parts for a while, precipitated the ruin of the
Whole.—As Searcloths, on a weakly Person,
seem to strengthen one part, while they debilitate
all the rest However she did what she
could, on so frail a Subject; but having at first
mistaken the Case, and seeing your unwillingness
to be call’d in, ’tis no wonder she
miss’d of the Cure. In the mean time several
eminent Persons, who have look’d upon the
infirm and deplorable state of your Frontier,
have consider’d the Case in different Lights.—
Some imputing it to the total decay of the radical
Moisture; others to the manifest defects
of the Stamina; others to the violent shocks
and concussions of neighbouring Bodies; but
the more judicious to worms.—In short,
whatever the Cause be, the Cure is only to be
expected from You; which I fear, nothing but
the most powerful Alternatives can bring about.

I’m sensible a Ruin has a very good effect in a
Prospect; and I would by no means have your
Garden defective of Ornament. But you have
already on the South-side a Malt-house magnificentlycently Z1r 169
shatter’d; on the North a Barn, or Hovel
in its last perfection; besides Dragon’s Kennel in
the Western view. So that you want no Decoration
of this sort; and indeed can have no pretence
for not making a general discharge of the
morbid Matter, and thoroughly purging the
whole System. If you were to have a consultation,
the whole Faculty, I’m perswaded, would
be of this opinion; and I’m sure F—n, if he
was call’d in, would approve of the Practice, as
entirely consistent with his doctrine of Evacuation.

Indeed it is not for me to direct so able-minded
a Physician in the minutest part of his Art;
and I should have been entirely silent upon this
head, if I was not myself a sufferer in the calamitous
scene. But having long since satisfy’d my
eyes and ears with seeing and hearing in public,
I would now gladly pass the rest of my time in
silence and obscurity; but those lamentable fractures
and disjointings in your partition-fence expose
me to all the world. Many, whom your
skill in the laws of Motion (particularly the peristaltic)
has sent on hasty errands to the bottom
of your Garden, have stopp’d short to contemplate
Me in my hortensical Operations, to the
obstruction of your physical ones. Sometimes
I’ve been surpriz’d with a paddle, or other instrument
of husbandry in my hand; generally in Z some Z1v 170
some ignoble occupation, and always in dishabille.
’Tis true, these dreadful chasms, in return, naturally
enlarge my views, and discover to me objects
well worthy the observation of a Philosopher.
—So, “The Soul’s dark cottage, batter’d and decay’d,Lets in new lights thro’ chinks which time has made.”
I say, thro’ the gaps and breaches of this corruptible
Fabric, I’ve seen You, Sir, busied in contemplation
of the works of Nature, and Mrs.
Pitt in those of Art; but then it must be sufficiently
mortifying to be seen myself in (the last
light our sex would chuse to be seen) an Undress.
However, seeing you so regardless of the weak
fence between us, as if you chose to be under
no restraint or bounds, but were for having all
things in common; I say finding there was
little hopes from the Physician, I one day apply’d
myself to Mr. G—, whom every body
knows to be a Gentleman of a fair character, and
well skill’d in Chirurgical Operations. I shew’d
him the Fractions, Dislocations, Strains, &c.
here a rotten Member, and there a Limb quite
dropp’d off; and the whole tending to a Mortification
and Putrescence; but indeed to very little
purpose. He likewise was for repeating the Palliatives;liatives; Z2r 171
for bracing up, strengthening, and corroberating
the weaker parts; and in short, what
with plaistering, patching, trepanning, and other
terms of Art, he put me out of all patience. I
left him with some indignation (as well knowing
the Surgeon is always in Fee with the Physician)
and resolved from that moment to apply myself
to You, from whom only I expect a Cure; and
that too by total Excision.

And now, in this miserable situation, good
Doctor, behold your Frontier! Naturally of a
thin scurvy Habit, and now in an advanc’d age,
attended with a constant trepidation, lowness,
and sinking; subject to violent Paroxysms, and
even Epilepsies in a North-Easterly wind; and in
short, by length of time, and inclement seasons,
reduc’d to the last stages of an Atrophy. And
will you thus suffer the Ornament and Defence
of your Person and House to sink in ruin, and
not stretch out your healing Hand to build it up
again? You have before often had to do with
rotten Subjects, and render’d ’em quite sound and
healthy again. Give us then a cast of your Art
in support of this miserable sinking Frame. But
if the Case is too far gone, and (as I fear) absolutely
out of the reach of Physic; nothing remains but
that you convince the World of the effects of
your Lyre; and, like a true son of Apollo, make Z2 the Z2v 172
the stones dance up into a Wall, as a standing
Monument of your Fame to future Ages.


I am Sir, &c.

P.S. There has lately appear’d a little swelling,
tumor, or protuberance (call’d by the Italians
Terraccia) of a livid colour, and quite
schirrous, upon the extremities at the bottom of
your Garden, which is extremely offensive to
Me; in that the spectator has from thence a full
view of that little Temple of ours, dedicated to
Cloacina. But as Mr. G—.has brought it to a
state of Maturation, I hope you’ll take proper
methods to disperse it, as I would by now means
have the mysteries of that Goddess expos’d.

Treatise of Demoniacs.

In a Letter to a Friend.

Your Letters, dear Madam, besides the
pleasure they always give me, generally
lead me into some learned, or useful Enquiry;
and either set my Imagination at work to divert
you, or my Spirit of Contradiction to dispute
with you. My last, I think, was a Dissertation
upon Eels; in which, I hope, I accounted for certain Z3r 173
certain Phenomena relating to those vermiform
Animals, entirely to the satisfaction of the Learned.
In this, I propose to enquire into the Nature,
and Existence of Demons, (or blue Devils,
as you call ’em) and examine the Powers they
have over the Minds or Bodies of Men: Beings,
which you seem to speak of with so little respect,
as if you had either no notion of their existence,
or were not in the least afraid of them. But I,
who am not sure I have not formerly been under
the Influence of some of ’em, and am still terrify’d
with the Stories I’ve heard of ’em, cannot so
easily free myself from their apprehensions; and
having found certain Impulses and Impressions upon
my mind, which I could not otherwise account
for, have no longer any cause to doubt of
their existence. Besides, I like the Country
Fellow’s prudence, who would not hear even the
smallest Imp abused, because he did not know
whose hands he might fall into.

It was the opinion of the ancient Greeks and
Romans, that every Man had two Genii, or
Demons attending him from his Nativity to his
Death. The good ones were called Lares; the
bad Larvæ, or Lemures. They were suppos’d
to have the inspection of human affairs, to be
the dispensers of Good and Evil to Men; and to
them were particularly attributed any extraordis
nary Diseases
. It is of no consequence to the point Z3v 174
point in debate whether these Demons were the
Souls of departed Men, as Hesiod, and others have
imagin’d; or whether they were Beings of another
Order, and endued with other Powers and
Faculties. All that I am concern’d to prove, is,
the Existence of some such Beings, and the Influence
they were suppos’d to have over the Minds,
and Bodies of Men.

This Notion was so generally allow’d of even
by Jewish and Christian, as well as Heathen
Writers, that ’twere endless to multiply Authorities
in support of it. I shall therefore only observe
to you, that Justin Martyr says, “The
Gods of the Heathens are Demons.”
Josephus
calls ’em, “The Souls of wicked Men.” And
Celsus observes, “That Gods as well as Demons
descended from Heaven for the Service, or
Punishment of Men.”
Now if there were
really no such Beings, whence came the general
Belief? If it be answer’d from Tradition, the
same Question will recur, Whence had they
this Tradition? And how came they by the Notion
at first?

The Influence they were suppos’d to have over
Mankind, is equally certain. Yet I can readily
allow the Demonology of the Ancients had a
Mixture of Truth and Error in it. Their
mysterious kind of Worship naturally led them
to great degrees of Superstition; and any extraordinaryordinary Z4r 175
Event they could not other wise account
for, was immediately ascrib’d to some invisible
Being, as the Cause. It is for this reason
probably, that Hippocrates seems to ridicule the
Notion, in his Treatise de Morbo Sacro. But tho’
he was undoubtedly enlighten’d with great
degrees of Knowledge, yet we must not entirely
give up the sense of Antiquity, for the
sake of this divine old Man. For we have
frequent and incontestible accounts of several
sorts of Possessions among them; and the Epilepsy
and Madness were always particularly look’d
upon as sacred Diseases; that is, as having their
Origin from some or other of their Gods, or
Demons. Besides these, we have the concurrent
Testimony of the Fathers against him; and St.
Cyprian
expresly observes, “That these are they
who inspire the breasts of the Prophets; who
are the Authors of Oracles; who, creeping
into Mens Bodies raise secret Terrors in their
Minds distort thier Limbs, destroy their
Health, and cause Distempers.”
And among
the Pagan Writers, Homer, describing the
Case of a Man who languish’d under a painful
Disease, wasting him away by degrees, says,
“That a hateful Demon had enter’d into him.”
If any one doubts their Influence after this, I
would fain know to what Purpose were their
Offerings and Lustrations? And why were Exorcismsorcisms Z4v 176
and Incantations made use of to cure
the distemper’d Person, rather than medicinal
Applications? To say nothing of the Power of
Music, which, as Xenocrates and others have
observ’d, “has freed those that were troubled
with evil Spirits,”
I shall only mention an
instance of the efficacy of Magical Charms from
JosephusSolomon, says he, left behind him
certain Charms by which they could expel Demons,
&c.
and this method of Cure remains
with us to this day. He then relates a Story
upon his own Knowledge, of one Eleazer, who,
by applying a Ring which had one of the
Roots which Solomon had taught the Virtues of,
under the Seal of it, drew out the Demon thro’
the Nose of him that smelt to it
. But being
willing to satisfy the Spectators entirely, (who
were no less than Vespasian, his Sons and Officers)
he commanded the Demon, as he went
out, to overturn a little Vessel of Water that
stood at some distance; which he effectually
did, to the entire Conviction, as well as Astonishment
of all the Spectators.

As therefore certain Disorders were ascrib’d
to certain invisible Beings, so they had particular
Appellations to signify the Nature and Degree
of the Possession. Thus, those who only
look’d wild, and talk’d somewhat incoherently, were Aa1r 177
were call’d Larvati, as being possess’d with
the Larvæ, or Goblins and Spectres. Others,
that were more raving and frantic, and were
besides terrified a nights with some such disorder
as that we call the Night-Mare, were styl’d
Lymphatici, as being under the Possession of of
the Nymphæ, or Lymphæ. Some such Beings
perhaps as those we call Fairies or Hags;
who inhabit chiefly moist places, where the
Nymphæ are said to reside, and sometimes entertain
the Traveller with soft Music. And a
third sort there were, who being seiz’d with
a higher degree of Frenzy, ran into Woods and
Desarts, howling and fancying themselves Wolves:
and these were call’d Lycanthropi. But all, according
to Justin Martyr, who are seiz’d by the
Souls of deceas’d Beings or Demons, are such
as all Men agree in calling Demoniacs.

Having now settled the Existence of Demons,
and the Influence they were suppos’d to have
over Mankind by the Ancients; I shall proceed
to shew in what manner they act now, and
what particular cases may reasonably be attributed
to their Operation.

All natural Defects, such as arise from invincible
Ignorance or Folly, may be attributed
either to our original Make and Constitution,
or to some accidental Deficiency of the Organs.
But all that kind of Depravity which is of our Aa own Aa1v 178
own seeking, or more properly, all that species
of Folly or Madness which comes under the
Notion of Wrongheadedness or Perverseness, may,
I think, be reckon’d purely Demoniacal; (the
perversion of our rational Faculties, or the immoderate
indulgence of our natural, being the
most likely Avenues for the Demon to enter)
or, in a word, all those effects which have no
visible Causes, may, I think, fairly be imputed
to invisible ones. For how can we otherwise
account for those egregious Blunders against
common Decency, and common Sense, we
daily meet with in Persons of no mean Understanding
in other respects, but by supposing
them under the Influence of some Demon
for the time? Is it reasonable to think, that
some of our gentlest Men, all smooth and jessamy
with the gentlest virtues, should want the
heart to exert ’em in the only instances where
they are Virtues? Or sacrifice the Ties of Honour,
or Friendship, to some prevailing Interest
or predominant Whim, if some invisible Agent
did not lurk somewhere about the Heart? Or
that Women of the first Rank, and finest Notions,
should condescend to put all the flowers
of Rhetoric out of countenance, only to convince
a poor Mercer out of Half a Crown?
Or elope from their loving Husbands, and
splendid Apartments, to some obscure Corner, and Aa2r 179
and the only Man they ought not to love, if
they were not entirely possess’d by the Larvæ;
and ty’d, chain’d down by these evil Beings?
Therefore, whenever I see a gentle Man bedawb
his gentle Character, or a gentle Woman
skinning flints, and saving the droppings of
her nose, under a notion of Frugality; or
squandering away her Virtue, Reputation, and
Health, under the notion of Pleasure; I’m so
far from making those uncharitable reflections
upon their conduct the World generally makes,
or for confining her under Lock and Key, as
cruel Parents are wont; that I’m for having
certain magic Circles first drawn round the Parties
affected, and the Curate, if he be a knowing
Man and understands Greek, sent for to
exorcise ’em.

You sometimes tell me (as little credit as you
seem to give to these things) that I am either mad,
or possess’d myself; and, as I said before, I am
not sure you have not some Foundation for what
you say. At least, I am myself often astonish’d
at a number of things I say, and do—I don’t
know why or wherefore, unless at those times
I am under the Power of some or other of
these capricious Agents. I very often will one
thing and do another, even against the most
determinate Resolutions of my own Mind; and
have more than once said No, when I meant Aa2 Yes; Aa2v 180
Yes; not with any design to falsify, but from
a certain Absence, or rather Possession of Mind,
which sometimes seizes me unawares, and overrules
all my Faculties. And what are those
Poetic Fits I am frequently trouble with, but
the violent and tumultuous influx of some Demon,
upon my Blood and Spirits, agitating all
within? For I feel my Breast of a sudden
prompted and inflamed, my eye sparkle and
look wild, like the Pythoness when she had
caught Inspiration; and, in short, for the Time
am full of the Larvae.

Perhaps you think it extremely absurd to
see a Judge dance, or a Senator selling bargains:
alas! ’tis not the Judge that jumps over the
Stick, or the Senator that sells you the Pennyworth
of Wit, Reputation, or Probity; ’tis the
evil Spirit within, that performs the feats of
Activity in the one, and diverts himself with
the trading Genius of the other.

Not long ago Music was the reigning Madness;
and then what crowds of the Lymphatici
(deviating from their ancient Mansion of Moorfields)
us’d to throng to the Opera-House, to
hear the enchanting sounds of Italy! There
you might see all the various expressions of
Frenzy strong in every Face—Some beat their
Breasts, and tore their nicely-compos’d Hair;
others howl’d bitterly, and were scarcely to be held Aa3r 181
held by their Keepers—Some again seem’d
pensive and gloomy, their eyes fix’d, and reclining
upon a bench; others, starting from their
seats, would tear up their buttons in a rage,
and pour out the most horrid exclamations.
In short, the whole Atmosphere, as well as the
Breasts of the Audience, seem’d to be inhabited
by Demons; and I could wish some of the
ancient Lustrations were made use of to purge
the air thereabouts, which, I fear, is not totally
cleans’d to this day.

At present the musical Mania seems to give
place to a kind of religious Frenzy, which has
spread much of late; and manifests itself chiefly
in Boastings of extraordinary Gifts and Communications,
confus’d pourings-out of Texts, vehement
Preachings and Printings for, and against
Election and Reprobation; casting Lots for Inspiration;
asking Counsel of God by bits of
Paper; feeling violent inflations and puffings
up, and writing ventiloquent Journals of the
Spirit. The poor Wretches, who are thus seiz’d,
call themselves Methodists; and have, at the
Head of one Party of ’em, a chosen Bramin
or Ventiloquist, who, impatient of the Lenity
of the civil Magistrate, calls out upon Persecution,
that he may have the Glory of sacrificing
himself for the few of the Elect—They fast
themselves to Skeletons, because they have a Text Aa3v 182
Text to prove, that the Way to Heaven is
thro’ a strait Gate; and therefore no fat Peocan
enter in. Several of these Lycanthropi,
having divested themselves not only of the Incumbrances
of the Flesh, but even of their
Calling and all visible Means of subsistence,
for the kingdom of Heaven’s sake, are now setting
out for the Wilderness, Georgia. in order to be
fed by Ravens, that they may be able to get
in at a Chink.

There are likewise several other kinds of
Deliria which are periodical, and return only at
certain Seasons. Of this sort is the Tulipomania,
or Tulip-Frenzy, which generally rages
pretty strongly all this month, and disappears
again all the rest of the year. But as this is not
properly a demoniacal Case, (tho’ the Ancients
had their Cerriti, those who were possess’d by
Ceres, as well as their Larvati, &c.) and as several
of my acquaintance are far gone in this
Malady, I shall content my self with having just
hinted it, and return to my Demoniacs.

For instance, whenever I see Divines, learned
or unlearned, labouring more after Quaintnesses
than Truth; teazing a Metaphor from
page to page; tormenting a Text to Meanings
it never meant; explaining some most obscure Point Aa4r 183
Point by hard-to-be-conceiv’d Prettinesses, and
Tricks upon Words, by Similies which have
no similitude, by Illustrations totally dark, by
Proofs which prove nothing, and by arguments,
which, if they prove any thing, prove too much;
I say, when I hear nothing but a jumble of
Sounds, a hash of Words, and a nothingness
of Sense, I conceive I have great Charity if I
only consider the Man (for I would not be understood
of the serious and sensible Divine) as
full of the Larvæ; and like the ancient Vates,
or Prophets, mistaking his own pious Rhapsodies
for holy Infusions of the Spirit.

Again, when I observe Physicians reasoning
about absolute Incertainties with the greatest
Certainty, confuting Hypothesis with Hypothesis,
making the Laws of Nature give place to
Algebraical Calculations, boldly opposing their
Wisdom to Hers, and either obstructing or diverting
her Course, when She would help
her self; murdering Health by rules of Art,
and trying Practices, or writing Treatises on Life,
by some call’d Meditations on Death; I say,
when I consider a Son of Æsculpaius in this
view, how can I hold my self from fancying
that he is the very Demon or Disease himself,
and permitted to enter into Mens Bodies, for
their Sins, in the shape of a Bolus, or a Pill?

Hence Aa4v 184

Hence too we may account for various Diseases,
and their several Phenomena, which pass
under the notion of Acts of the Will, or Understanding;
but which, from the high Inflammations
of some (which sometimes manifest
themselves in Party Zeal) and the hot and cold
fits of others (which never shew themselves distinctly
enough to observe whether they are of the
acute or nervous kind, or whether ’tis the sensitive
or the rational Faculty that is affected) are
shrewdly to be suspected, according to Celsus
and Hippocrates beforemention’d, to be the
work of some of these invisible Agents. Of
this kind likewise are several other sorts of Inflammations,
or Fevers; The Romans consider’d Fever as an intelligent Being, or
Goddess, to whom they built altars, and sacrific’d.
particularly those
which happen about the vernal Season of Life,
and are generally known by the name of Love-
Fits
. The Party, thus seiz’d, is by turns not
only the sport of all the Passions, but is hurried
away, as it were involuntarily, to the most extravagant
Actions; sometimes capable of encountering
the greatest Difficulties, and at others
not able to step over a Straw. But I need
not describe the symptoms, nor the Genius or
Goddess to whose Impulse they are owing; She
being equally known to the Moderns, as the Ancients. Bb1r 185
Ancients. I shall therefore only observe, that
in Love, the reverse of War, (which is likewise
a demoniacal Case) the Victors fly, and the
Vanquish’d pursue; and as all Warriors had
their Genius or Demon, so, Plato says, all Lovers
are inspir’d; that is, something more than
mortal.

But the most dangerous of this sort of Fevers,
are those autumnal ones which are sometimes
observ’d to rage so violently about the grand
Climacteric. For then the Patient being entirely
unguarded and unprepar’d, as apprehending
no farther attacks from this Quarter,
the Demon makes his full descent upon the
Blood and Spirits, and occasions all that preternatural
effervescence, so unlook’d for at this time
of life. In this case, some Authors have been for
making an incision in the left arm, wide enough
for the Demon to escape thro’ the orifice; and
after having attack’d him from within with a
sufficient quantity of Water-gruel, and other cooling
liquors, they order the Patient to be thrice
totally immers’d in the Cold-bath. The Church
of Rome makes use of a lustral Water, upon
these occasions; but I should think, some of
our petrifying Springs might do as well. However,
if this does not effect the Cure, there is
but one Remedy more I have met with in the
course of my Reading; and that is, certain Bb mysterious Bb1v 186
mysterious Origen says, the very Sound of certain Words, rightly
spoken, were effectual to drive out Demons. B. iv. P. 184.
Words compos’d in the form of
Anagrams, to be repeated either backwards or
forwards, as the Paroxisms require. Of which
class in the famous Abracadabra of Basilides;
a Word of such singular effecacy in demoniacal
Cases, that (if we may credit the sense of Antiquity)
when worn about the neck, and wrote in
the following manner, never fail’d of a Cure.
“Abracadabra
Abracadabr
Abracadab
Abracada
Abracad
Abraca
Abrac
Abra
Abr
Ab
A”

There is another Case, which seems to me to
be purely Demoniacal, and which generally goes
under the denomination of the Spleen, or Hypocondriac
Affection. Some Physicians have conceiv’d
this Disease to be entirely modern, particularlyticularly Bb2r 187
the accurate Dr. Cheyne, who dates it’s æra
from the first openings of our present reigning
Luxury and Voluptuousness. But there are many
reasons to suppose it of a much earlier date;
and if we only compare the Symptoms of the
Hypocondriaci, with those of the Larvati, &c.
together with the methods of Cure even now
in use, I fear we shall find it to be one and the
same Disorder. For the Hypocondriaci suffer
all those cruel Dejections and Perturbations of
Spirit, so common to the Demoniac; are scar’d
with Dreams and Illusions of the Night, tortur’d
with imaginary Fears, trembling with the
Apprehensions of all manner of Evils, peevish
and prone to Anger when no-body hurts ’em,
and not only out of humour with the World,
but even bearing Malice and Hatred against
themselves; and yet all this while (as their
Doctors have told ’em) have been in sound
Health of Body, but I’m sure very far from
their right Mind. Nay some of them have
actually fancy’d themselves transform’d too;
and I knew a poor Hypocondriac, who being
(imperceptibly) chang’d into a glass Window,
was afraid to stir out, for fear the Boys should
break her.

Now these are all Acts, or rather Depravations
of the Imagination, or Mind; but how Bb2 the Bb2v 188
the Mind can be the Seat of the Disease, is,
to me, perfectly unintelligible. It may indeed
so oddly associate its ideas, by the intervention
of some of these evil Beings, that it may fancy
all the Pains and Penalties that ever were inflicted
upon the poor Body; but can a Disease
(properly so call’d) appear in the shape of an
Easterly wind, and vanish again with the least
change of the Weather-cock? Can this particular
one assume what form it pleases; be an
Asthma to-day, and a Pleurisy to-morrow, a
Dropsy one Moment, and a deep Consumption
the next? Such changes Proteus himself
never underwent; but such changes a poor
Demoniac may easily be suppos’d to undergo.
For ’tis one of the properties of the Genii to
assume what shape they please, as well as to
imprint the most fantastic Images upon the
Minds of Men. Hence the Party is one moment
franticly merry, and, and the next sullen
and dumb. And tho’ the former symptoms
seem rather to be the instigations of the Larvæ,
yet this effect may perhaps be more properly
attributed to the Lares, who were the offspring
of a dumb Goddess, by the Demon of Mirth,
as he was carrying her to the infernal Shades.

But that this is really a demoniacal Case, will
further appear, when we compare the presentsent Bb3r 189
methods of Cure, with the ancient manner
of appeasing, or exorcising these Beings. Now
any one that will but be at the trouble of reading
over that painful Enquirer, Alexander Ross, Myst. Poet.
may know, that upon these occasions they us’d
to offer to the Genii Wine, and the smoke of
Frankincense. And does not our learned and
judicious Sydenham order the most generous
Wines to be given moderatley in this Case; and
also various Fumigations made, not only of
the odoriferous kind, but even all manner of
fætids?—They (says he) thought it an abomination
to offer any living Creature to these
Beings, or to worship them with the loss of any
Beasts’s life. Cheyne observes the same Method
to this day, and will suffer none of his Patients
to taste of animal Food. And if the Frenzy
be very high, he enjoins a total Milk Diet.—
The place where they worshipp’d these Beings
(he tells us) was in their Chimneys, &c. Conformable
to this Practice, Mandeville orders
the Hypocondriaci to indulge themselves in
warm rooms, and by good fires, &c.

In short, from the Moderns retaining thus
much of the ancient Practice, ’tis plain they
agree as to the Effects of this Disorder, tho’ they Bb3v 190
they seem not to have the least Notion of the
Cause. And this it is which renders the Cure
so extremely difficult at present, as well as their
Practice so diametrically opposite to each others.
For while the Ancients, who from a thorough
Knowledge of the Cause, observ’d a kind of
religious Practice, and mixt something of Devotion
with their Drugs; the Moderns, who
seem to have no Faith in any Powers, but those
of Medicine, rest the whole upon Principles of
Physic. And thus after having amus’d the
World, and puzzled themselves with Crudities,
Flatulencies, fizy Juices, lax Solids, and I know
not what beside, they (with a peculiar Mixture
of Science and Generosity) lay it all upon the
poor Patient’s Fancy; and call it nothing but
Imagination, forsooth! And thus, at length,
they hit off the Case. But the misfortune is,
this lucky Thought never comes into their
Heads till they have teaz’d and tormented the
poor Patient with Remedies that are worse than
the Disease; and amus’d him with Hope, till
he despairs. But not to enter farther into the
Mysteries of the Science, this sufficiently shews
how little is to be depended upon from the Moderns
in this Case; which, together with an
earnest desire of imprinting proper Notions of
these Beings on your Mind (lest at some time or Bb4r 191
or other they should take Possession of you, as a
Punishment for your Incredulity) were the chief
Motives which set me upon this Enquiry.

And now I shall leave my Labours with the
Practitioners in Physic, to reform their Practice
by; with the young Students in Divinity, to try
their Doctrines by; and with the rest of the
World, to make what Uses they please of: not
doubting but I shall receive the Thanks of Posterity,
for recovering so much of the learned
and useful Dust of Antiquity, tho’ the present
Age may possibly envy me the Glory of it.


I remain, &c.
Letters Bb4v

Letters
to
Mrs * * * * * * *

Cc1r 193

As I’ve an impatience in my Nature to
satisfy all its laudable Impulses, give me
leave, dear Madam, to remind you, with some
earnestness, of the Promise you were so obliging
as to make me in Town. The pleasure you
gave me in your Conversation, only makes me
more eagerly desire that of your Correspondence;
as an elegant Preface to a Book, raises
our Curiosity to know more of the Author.
But the first Letter, like the first Visit, is generally
the most irksome part of the Ceremony.
One is at such a loss for Words, so distress’d
about Forms, and so embarrass’d with Civilities,
that ’tis impossible to speak easily, or move
gracefully. No one disengages her self so readily
of these incumbrances as Mrs. — , or
so easily dispenses with the Law of Ceremony
from others. You take one into your Dressing-
Room, seat one in one of Rableais’ easy Chairs,
unlock your Treasures of Science, and (tho’ one
has never spoke to you before) lead one thro’
all Subjects with so much ease, and so little reserve,
that ’tis not above five Minutes that one
can possibly fancy one’s self a stranger. You
see, I can’t yet speak of your Dressing-Room
without rapture. How often have I, when all Cc my Cc1v 194
my thoughts have been groveling in * * * *, been
caught up thither, as it were in a Trance, with
St. Teresa and your self! While you, like some
good Genius, willing to raise my Ideas beyond
the Confines of this World, not only seem’d to
beckon me away, but gave me power to emerge.
Attach’d as I was to this or that particular System,
this Sun, or those Stars; yet I found there
was Something still beyond them, that not only
encourag’d my pursuit, but directed my steps.
I had made many Pilgrimages to my Saint in
Burlington-Street, in order to fix my thoughts
upon some rational Object of Devotion; but
’twas entirely owing to you, that my Notions,
in Town, were so highly rectify’d, as to relish
the convers