Grammar, and Rules of Art, he knows 'em not, Yet writ two taking Plays, without one Plot. Huff, was for Settle, and Morocco prais'd,

Said rumbling Words, like Drums, his Courage rais'd;

Whofe broad built Bulks the boyffrous Billows bear,

Zaphee, and Sally, Mugadore, Oran,
The fam'd Arzile, Alcazer, Tituan;
Was ever braver Language writ by Man?
Kickum for Crown declar'd, faid in Romance,
He had out done the very wits of France:
Witnefs Pandion; and his Charles the Eight,
Where a young Monarch, careless of his Fate,
Tho' Foreign Troops, and Rebels fhock his
State;

Complains another Sight afflicts him more,
(Viz.) The Queen's Galleys rowing from the
Shore,

Fitting their Oars, and Tacking to be gon, Whilft Sporting Waves fmil'd on the Rifing Sun. Waves fmiling on the Sun! I am fure that's

new,

And, 'twas well thought on, give the Devil his Due.

My Hoft, who had faid nothing in an hour, Rofe up, and prais'd the Indian Emperor: As if our Old World modeftly withdrew,

And here, in private, had brought forth a New. These are two Lines, who but he durft prefume To make th' Old World a new Withdrawing Room?

Where

Where of another World she's brought to Bed;
What a brave Midwife is a Laureat's Head!

But Pox upon thefeScriblers, What d'ye think,
Will Zouches this Year any Champain drink?
Will Turene fight him? Without doubt, fays
Huff,

If they two meet, their Meeting will be rough.
D--m me (fays Dingboy) the French Cowards are,
They Pay, but th' English, Scots, and Switzs
make War:

In Gawdy Troops, at a Review they shine,
But dare not with the Germans Battle joyn:
What now appears like Courage, is not so,
'Tis a fhort Pride which from Succefs does grow.
On their first Blow, they'll fhrink into those
Fears

They fhew'd at Creffy, Agin-Court, Poitiers;
Their Lofs was infamous, Honour so stain'd
Is by a Nation not to be regain'd.

What they were then, I know not, now they're
brave,

He that denies it, lies, and is a Slave

(Says Huff, and frown'd;) Says Dingboy, that

do I;

And at that word, at t'others Head let fly
A greafie Plate, when fuddenly they all
Together by the Ears in Parties fall:
Halfwit with Dingboy joins, Kickum with
Huff,

Their Swords were fafe,and fo we let 'em Cuff,
Till, they, my Hoft, and I, had all enough.

!

Their Rage once over, they begin to treat, And fix fresh Bottles must the Peace compleat; I ran down Stairs, with a vow never more, To drink Beer-Glaffes, and hear Hectors roar.

Madam Nelley's Complaint: A SATYR.

By Sir George Etheridge.

F Sylla's Ghoft made bloody Cat'line start, And fhook the Fabrick of his Marble Heart: If Samuel's shade could wicked Saul affright When Endor rais'd him from the Depth of Night,

Pity poor Nell that's haunted by Moll Knight:)
You that have feen me in my Youthful Age,
Preferred from Stall of Turnips to the Stage,
Those sympathetick Griefs you did bestow,
And Tears to Scenic Sufferings once allow,
Employ em on my real Torments now.
Knight, cruel Knight, that once lay in my
Breast,

My Conftant Crony and eternal Guest,
Th' Applauder of my Beauty and my Jeft;
She, She, that cruel She to France is fled,
Yet lets me not enjoy my quiet Bed;
When e'er I lay me down to love, or Sleep,
She thro' the opening Curtains feems to peep,
Dreadful as Gorgon, turning all to Stone,
Unpainted, and without her Plumpers on ;

Her

Her Eyes and Cheeks all hollow, fo her Voice,
And this the utters with a dreadful Noise;
Pug, cruel Pug, with whom fo long I liv'd,
For whom fo well I faithfully contriv'd;
Wherein have I deferv'd fo ill of thee,
That thou fhould't part my dearest C—and me?
Of Brawny Blockheads hadft thou not before,"
By my Industrious Care, a numerous Store,
Cd her felf was never cram'd with more?
By her when first of W

bereft,

My Charming C was ftill a Treasure left,
Nor to my Wishes did he difagree,

I ogled him, and he would Squint at me;
But when his charming Limbs the first time prest
My Heitick Body, neer was Bawd fo bleft;
Lan-d himfelf for C-I did defpife,
Land the Gay, the Sprightly, and the Wife,
Big with my Joys, to thee I must still run,
Declar'd how oft the Sacred A&t was done:
While as the melting History I told,

My twinkling Eyes in their old Sockets roll'd:
All this by faithlefs thee, with Craft was heard,
No blufhing fign of kindling Luft appear'd;
Blushing! a thing thou ft conquer'd long agoe,
And Modesty has always been thy Foe;

If e'er thou affect it, 'tis with awkward Grace,
For Bawd is always open'd in thy Face;
Bawd is thy Art, Accomplishment and Trade,
For that, not Love, thou wert a Mistress made;
No Hero ever to thy Arms was won,
But in fome drunken hour when love was done
To Wallow, Fumble, Grunt, and Spew upon;

L 4

"Till

'Till my falfe Squinter thou did ft lead aftray, And her, that too much trusted thee, betray. Thus I poor Nymph am plagu'd, and must not reft,

Betaufe in that Adonis C― I'm bleft;

C-who for close intrigues was doubtless made,
Whofe Love was never by his Looks betray'd,
For while his melting Eyes did mine furvey,
They craftily still feem'd another way.
Which when fond Knight our Confident did see,
She claim'd the Homage that was paid to me?
Till to redrefs the mighty Wrong fuftain'd,
I to my God-like Soveraign complain'd,
And by his Juftice, all my Rights maintain’d.
Let Mountebank make Market-houses ring,
Of what great Feats they've done before the
King;

Let Learn'd Sir Sam his Windfor Engin try, Before great Charles let Quacks and Sea-men lie,

He ne'er heard Swearers, till Moll Knight and I;
Never heard Oaths lefs valu'd, or less true,
(And yet 'tis faid he'as paid for Swearing too ;)
Lowdlier we fwore than plundering Dragoons,
S'blood follow'd S'blood, and Z-- fucceeded Z--
Till at the laft, the Bawd's weak Forces fail'd,
And I by Noife and Impudence prevail'd:
To France my baffled fqueaking Rival's gone,
And C, and all his Eyes are now my own;
Shou'd the pretend to what's fo much my due,
She might as well take lovely Duncan too;

Dun