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But fee, they're gone,
The Earth has Bubbles as the Waters has,
And these are of them : They vanish'd
Into the Air, and what seem'd corporal
Melted as Breath into the Wind.

Shak. Macb.
So roams the nightly Woolf about the Fold,
Wet with descending Show'rs, and stiff with Cold;
He howls for Hunger, and he grins for Paia,
His gnalbing Teeth are exercis'd in vain ;
And impotent of Anger, finds no Way
In his diftended Paws to grasp the Prey.
The Mothers listen, but the bleating Lambs
Securely swig the Dug beneath the Dams.

Dryd. Virg. As when a Woolf, pinch'd by nocturnal Cold And Hunger-starv’d, scours round the lofry Fold; He licks his rabbid Jaws, and seems possess’d Already of his Prey, and bloody Feaft. He offers oft to enter, while the Lambs Affrighted tremble round their bleating Dams.

Blac. As hungry Wolves, with raging Appetite, Scour through the Fields, nor fear the stormy Night; Their Whelps at home expect the promis'd Food, And long to temper their dry Chaps in Blood.

Dryd. Virg. As when a prowling Woolf, Whom Hunger drives to seek new Haunts for Prey, Watching where Shepherds pen their Flocks at Eve, In hurdled Cotes amid the Field secure, Leaps o'er the Fence with ease into the Fold.

Milt, So fiezes the grim Woolf the tender Lamb, In vain lamented by the bleating Dam.

Dryd. Virg. As when the Woolf has torn a Bullock's Hide, At unawares, or ranch'd a Shepherd's Side, Conscious of his audacious Deed he flies, And claps his quiv’ring Tail between his Thighs.

Dryd. Virg.
Such Rage inflames the Woolt's wild Heart and Eyes,
Robb’d, as he thinks, unjustly of his Prize ;
Whom unawares the Shepherd spies, and draws
The bleating Lamb from our his rav'nous Jaws.
The Shepherd fain himself he would affail,
But Fear above his Hunger does prevail :
He knows his Foe's too strong, and must be gone ;
He grins as he looks back, and howls as he goes on. Cowl.

LYCAON turn'd into a Woolf.
The Tyrant in a Fright for Shelter gains
The neighb'ring Fields, and scours along the Plains :
Howling he fled, and fain he would have spoke,
But human Voice his brutal Tongue forfook



About his Lips the gather'd Foam he churns,
And breathing Slaughter, still with Rage he burns,
But on the bleating Flock his Fury turns.
His Mantle, now his Hide, with rugged Hairs,
Cleaves to his Back, a familh'd Face he bears,
His Arms descend,' his Shoulders sink away,
To multiply his Legs for Chace of Prey.
He grows a Woolf, his Hoariness remains,
And the fame Rage in other Members reigns;
His Eyes still sparkle in a narrower Space,
His Jaws retain the Grin and Violence of Face. Dryd. Ovid.

ROMULUS and R E MU S nurs'd by a Woolf.
The Cave of Mars was dress'd with mofly Greens;
There by the Woolf were laid the martial Twins ;
Intrepid on her swelling Dugs they hung,
The Foster-Dam lolld out her fawning Tongue ;
'They suck'd secure, while bending back her Head, (Dryd. Virg.
She lick'd their tender Limbs, and form'd them as they fed.

WOMAN. Thou'rt Woman, a true Copy of the first, In whom the Race of all Mankind was curft : Your Sex by Beauty was to Heav'n ally'd, But your great Lord, the Devil, taught you Pride. He too an Angel, till he durft rebel, And you are sure the Stars that with him fell. Weep on! a Scock of Tears like Vows you have, And always ready when you would deceive. Otw. Don, Carl.

Oh Virtue! Virtue ! what art thou become,
That Men should leave thee for that Toy a Woman!
Made from the Dross and Refuse of a Man :
Heav'n took him sleeping when he made her too;
Had Man been waking he had ne'er consented. Dryd, Span, Fry.

Out of my Sight thou Serpent, that Name beft
Befits thee, with him leagu'à, thy self as false,
And hateful ; nothing wants, but that thy Shape,
Like his, and Colour ferpentine, may thew
Thy inward Fraud, to warn all Creatures from thee.

Thy all is but a Show,
Rather than solid Virue ; all but a Rib,
Crooked by Nature. Oh why did God,
Creator wise, that peopled highest Heav'n
With Spirits masculine, create aç last
This Novelty on Earth ! chis fair Defe&
Of Nature, and not fill the World at once
With Men, as Angels, without Feminine,
Or find some other way to generate Mankind ?



Ah Traitress! Ah ingrate! Ah faithless Mind !
Ah Sex invented first to damn Mankind!
Nature took care to dress you up for Sin ;
Adorn'd without, unfinish'd left within :
Hence by, no Judgment you your Love dire&t;
Talk much, ne'er chink, and still the wrong affe&.
So much Self-love in your Composure's mix's,
That Love to others still remains unfix'd.
Greatness, and Noise, and Shew, are your Delight;
Yet wise Men love you in their own Despight:
And finding in their native Wit no Ease,
Are forc'd to put your Folly on to please. Dryd. Auren.

Intollerable Vanity ! your Sex
Was never in the right : You're always falle,
Or filly; ev’n your Dresses are not more
Fantastick than your Appetites: You think
Of nothing twice: Opinion you have none:
To Day you're nice, to Morrow not so free;
Now smile, then frown, now forrowful, then glad,
Now pleas’d, now not, and all you know not why.
Virtue you affect ; Inconstancy you practice;
And when your loose Desires once get Dominion,
No hungry Churl feeds coarser at a Feast :
Ev'ry rank Fool goes down.

Otw. Orph.
The Sex was first in Mock'ry of us made;
They are the false, deceitful Glasses, where
We gaze, and dress our felves to all the Shapes
Of Folly: What is it Woman cannot do ?
She'll make a Statesman quite forget his Cunning,
And trust his dearest Secrets to her Breast,
Where Fops have daily Entrance : Make a Priest,
Forgetting the Hypocrisy of's Office,
Dance and shew Tricks, to prove his Strength and Brawn.
Make a Projector quibble ; an old Judge
Put on false Hair and Paint: And after all,
Tho' she be known the lewdeft of her Sex,
She'll make some Fool or other think she's honeft. Otwo. C. Mari

For 'tis in vain to think to guess
At Women by Appearances :
That paint and patch their Imperfections
Of intellectual Complexions ;
And dawb their Tempers o'er with Wales,
As artificial as their faces.

Who can describe
Their Affe&tation, Pride, IU Nature, Noise,
Proneness to change, ev'n from the Joy that pleas'd them:
So gracious is their Idol, dear Variety,

Thac (Fair Pen.

That for another's Love, they would forego
An Angel's Form to mingle with a Devil's.
Thro' ev'ry State and Rank of Men'they wander,
Till ev'n their large Experience takes in all
The diff'rent Nations of the peopled Earth. Row. Amb. Step

Facally fair chey are, and in cheir Smiles
The Graces, little Loves, and young Desires inhabit:
But all that gaze upon them are undone.
For they are falfe, luxurious in their Appetites,
And all the Heav'n they hope for is Variety.
One Lover to another still succeeds ;
Another, and another after that,
And the last Fool is welcome as the former ;
Till having lov’d his Hour out, he gives place,
And mingles with the Herd that went before him. Row

Methought ev'n now I mark'd the Starts of Guilt,
That shook her Soul, tho' damn'd Diffimulation
Skreen'd her dark Thoughts, and set to publick View
A specious Face of Innocence and Beauty
Oh false Appearance ! What is all our Sov'reignty,
Or boasted Pow'r, when they oppose their Arts?
Still chey prevail, and we are found the Fools:
With such smooth Looks, and many a gentle Word,
The first fair She beguil'd her easy Lord :
Too blind with Love and Beauty to beware,
He fell unthinking in the fatal Snare :
Nor could believe that such a heav'nly Face,

(Row, Fair Pan Had bargain’d with the Devil, to damn her wretched Race.

Henceforth not name a Woman ;
'Tis Treason to my Ear. They are
The Bane of Empire, and the Ror of Pow'r!
The Cause of all our Mischiefs, Murders, Massacres !
What Seas of Blood they've spilt in former Ages ?
Woman, that dooms us all to one sure Grave,
And faster damns, than Providence can save.

Lee Conflant.
Each Inconvenience makes their Virtue cold,
But Womankind in Ills is ever bold.

Dryd. Jev. Oh Woman, Woman, Woman! All the Gods Have not such Pow'r of doing Good to Men, As you of doing Harm !

Dryd. Al for Lovre I'd leave the World for him that hates a Woman! Woman, the Fountain of all human Frailty! What mighty Ills have not been done by woman? Who was't betray'd the Capitol ? A Woman! Who was the Cause of a long ten Years War, And laid at last old Troy in Ashes ? a Woman! Who lost Mark Anthony the World ? a Woman! Destructive, damnnable, deceitful Woman!


Woman, to Man first as a Blessing given,
When Innocence and Love were in their Prime ;
Happy a while in Paradise they lay,
But quickly Woman long’d to go astray:
Some foolish new Adventure needs must prove,
And the first Devil she saw, the chang’d her Love.
To his Temptations lewdly she inclin'd
Her Soul, and for an Apple damn'd Mankind.

Otw. Orph
But I forget my self, and rovė
Beyond th'Instruction of my Love :
Forgive me, Fair! and only blame
Th'Extravagancy of my Flame;
Since 'cis too much at once to Ihow
Excess of Love and Temper tbo:
All I have said that's bad and true,
Was never meant to aim at you.

Oh Woman ! lovely Woman! Nature made you
To temper Man: We had been Brutes without you,
Angels are painted fair to look like you.
There's in you all that

we believe of Heav'n; Amazing Brightness, Puricy, and Truth, Eternal Joy, and everlasting Love.

Ofw. Ven. Pref. Under how hard a' Fate are Women born! Priz'd to their Ruin, or expos’d to Scorn. If we want Beauty we of Love despair, And are besieg'd like Frontier-Towns, if Fair.

wali How hard is the Condition of our Sex, Thro' ev'ry State of Life the Slaves of Man! In all the dear delightful Days of Youth, A rigid Farher dictates to our Wills, And dealš out Pleasure with a scanty Hand ! To his, the Tyrant Husband's Reign fucceeds: Proud with Opinion of superiour Reason, He holds domestick Business and Devotion All we are capable to know, and thurs üs, Like cloyster'd Ideots, from the World's Acquaintance, And all the Joys of Freedom. Wherefore are we Born with high Souls, but to asserc our felves, Shake off this wild Obedience they exact, And claim an equal Empire o'er the World. Row. Fair Peti.

Unhappy Sex! whole Beauty is your Snare; Expos'd to Trials, made too frail to bear.

Dryd. Adironi, Women are govern'd by a stubborn Face Their Love's intuperatle as their Hate ; No Merie their Avelion can remove, Noi! Peguici san etrace their Love,

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