We'll rig in Meath-street Ægypt's haughty Queen ;
And Antony shall court her in Ratteen.
In blue Shalloon shall Hannibal be clad,
And Scipio trail an Iris purple Plad.
In Drugget drest, of Thirteen Pence a Yard,
See Philip's Son amidst his Persian Guard ;
And proud Roxana, fir'd with jealous Rage,
With fifty Yards of Crape, shall sweep the Stage.
In short, our Kings and Princesses within,
Are all resolv'd the Project to begin ;
And you, our Subjects, when you here resort,
Must imitate the Fashion of the Court.

OH! could I see this Audience clad in Stuff; Tho'Money's scarce, we should have Trade enough; But Chints, Brocades, and Lace, take all away, And scarce a Crown is left to see a Play. Perhaps you wonder whence this Friendship springs Between the Weavers and us Play-house Kings: But Wit and Weaving had the fame Beginning; Pallas first taught us Poetry and Spinning: And next observe how this Alliance fits, For Weavers now are just as poor as Wits : Their Brother Quill-Men, Workers for the Stage, For forry Stuff can get a Crown a Page ; But Weavers will be kinder to the Players, And fell for Twenty Pence a Yard of theirs. And, to your Knowledge, there is often less in The Poet's Wit, than in the Player's Dressing.

PETHOX the Great.

Written in the Year 1723.

ROM Venus born, thy Beauty shows;

But who thy Father, no Man knows ; Nor can the skilful Herald trace The Founder of thy ancient Race: Whether thy Temper, full of Fire, Discovers Vulcan for thy Sire; The God who made Scamander boil, And round his Margin sindg'd the Soil ; (From whence Philosophers agree, An equal Pow'r descends to thee.) Whether from dreadful Mars you claim The high Descent from whence you came, And, as a Proof, shew num'rous Scars, By fierce Encounters made in Wars; (Those honourable Wounds you bore From Head to Foot, and all before ;) And still the bloody Field frequent, Familiar in each Leader's Tent. Or whether, as the Learn'd contend, You from the neighb'ring Gaul descend; Or from * Parthenope the Proud, Where numberless thy Vot'ries crowd.

Whether thy great Forefathers came
Froni Realms, that bear Vefputio's Name;
For fo Conjectors would obtrude,
And from thy painted Skin conclude.
Whether, as Epicurus shows,
The World from joftling Seeds arose
Which, mingling with prolifick Strife
In Chaos, kindled into Life ;
So your Production was the fame,
And from contending Atoms came.

Thy fair indulgent Mother crown'd Thy Head with sparkling Rubies round; Beneath thy decent Steps, the Road Is all with precious Jewels strow'd. The * Bird of Pallas knows his Post, Thee to attend, where-e'er thou go'st.

BYZANTIANS boast, that on the Clod, Where once their Sultan's Horse hath trod, Grows neither Grafs, nor Shrub, nor Tree, The same thy Subjects boast of Thee.

The greatest Lord, when you appear, Will deign your Livery to wear, In all thy various Colours seen, Of Red, and Yellow, Blue, and Green.

With half a Word, when you require, The Man of Business must retire.

The haughty Minister of State, With Trembling must thy Leisure wait

; And while his Fate is in thy Hands, The Bus’ness of the Nation stands.

Thou dar'it the greatest Prince attack,
Can'lt hourly set him on the Rack,
And, as an Instance of thy Pow?rą,
Inclose him in a wooden Tow'r,
With pungent Pains on ev'ry Side ;
So Regulus in Torments dy'd.

From thee our Youth all Virtues learn;
Dangers with Prudence to discern
And well thy Scholars are endu'd
With Temp’rance, and with Fortitude ;
With Patience, which all Ills supports ;
And Secrecy, the Art of Courts.

The glittring Beau could hardly tell,
Without your Aid, to read or spell ;
But, having long convers’d with you,
Knows how to scrawl a Billet-doux.

With what Delight, methinks, I trace
Thy Blood in ev'ry noble Race!
In whom thy Features, Shape, and Mein,
Are to the Life distinctly seen.

THE

1

The Britons, once a favage Kind,
By you were brighten'd and refind:
Descendants of the barb’rous Huns,
With Limbs robust, and Voice that stuns ;
But
you

have molded them afresh,
Remov'd the tough superfluous Flesh,
Taught them to modulate their Tongues,
And speak without the Help of Lungs.

PROTEUS on you bestow'd the Boon
To change your Visage like the Moon ;
You sometimes half a Face produce,
Keep t'other Half for private Use.

How fam'd thy Conduct in the Fight,
With * Hermes, Son of Pleias bright:
Out-number'd, half encompass'd round,
You strove for ev'ry Inch of Ground ;
Then, by a soldierly Retreat,
Retir’d to your Imperial Seat.
The Victor, when your Steps he trac’d,
Found all the Realms before him waste.
You, o'er the high triumphal Arch
Pontifick, made your glorious March :
The wond'rous Arch behind you fell,
And left a Chasm profound as Hell:
You, in your Capitol secur’d,
A Siege as long as Troy endur'd,

JOAN

Mercury.